OF 


HISTORIC    AMERICANS 


SKETCHES    OF    THE    LIVES    AND    CHARACTERS    OF 

CERTAIN     FAMOUS    AMERICANS     HELD     MOST 

IN  REVERENCE  BY  THE  BOYS  AND  GIRLS 

OF    AMERICA,    FOR    WHOM    THEIR 

STORIES    ARE     HERE    TOLD 


BY 

ELBRIDGE    S.    BROOKS 

Author  of"  Historic  Boys,"  "Historic  Girls,"  "The  Century  Book  for 

Young  Americans,"  the  "  True   Stories  "    of  Washington, 

Grant,  and  Franklin,  "  A  Son  of  the  Revolution," 

etc.,  etc.,  etc. 


NEW  YORK :  46  EAST  14711  STREET 

THOMAS  Y.   CROWELL  &   COMPANY 

BOSTON:  100  PURCHASE  STREET 


OF  CAUF.  rJimARY    TO* 


COPYRIGHT,  1899 
BY  THOMAS  Y.  CBOWXU.  &  Co. 


PREFACE. 


IT  is  not  the  intention  of  these  stories  of  Historic 
Americans  to  go  into  the  details  of  the  lives  and 
public  services  of  each.  It  has,  rather,  been  the 
desire  of  the  author  to  touch  briefly  upon  their 
careers,  but  to  indicate,  by  the  story  or  pen-picture 
of  some  pivotal  event,  the  chief  characteristic  or 
impulse  that  led  each  man  along  the  way  of 
patriotism. 

There  are  published  lives,  in  plenty,  of  these 
Historic  Americans.  Cyclopaedias  and  biographical 
dictionaries  give  all  needed  dates,  statistics,  and 
summaries ;  but  if  these  brief  glimpses  —  "  snap- 
shots," as  it  were,  at  our  grandest  Americans  — 
shall  arouse  anew  an  interest  in  our  greatest 
fellow-countrymen,  or  shall  lead  the  boys  and  girls 
of  the  Republic  to  familiarize  themselves  with  the 
more  extended  life-stories  of  the  noblest  figures  in 
the  gallery  of  America's  worthies,  the  purpose  of 
this  book  will  have  been  fully  answered.  It  might 
better  be  called  Scenes  from  the  Lives  of  the 
Builders  and  Makers  of  the  Republic. 

ELBRIDGE  S.  BROOKS. 

BOSTON,  February,  1899. 


2125638 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

JOHN  WINTHROP 1 

BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN 18 

JAMES  OTIS 34  V 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON 46 

SAMUEL  ADAMS 60 

PATRICK  HENRY 73 

JOHN  ADAMS 86 

THOMAS  JEFFERSON 100 

ALEXANDER  HAMILTON    . 115 

ROBERT  MORRIS    .     .     .     .    * 130 

JOHN  JAY 146 

JOHN  MARSHALL 161 

JAMES  MADISON 175 

JAMES  MONROE 188 

JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS 202 

ELI  WHITNEY 218 

ANDREW  JACKSON 231 

DANIEL  WEBSTER       .     .          247 


viii  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

WASHINGTON  IRVING 263 

HENRY  CLAY 277 

JOHN  CALDWELL  CALHOCN 291 

SAMUEL  FINLEY  BREESE  MORSE 305 

HORACE  MANN 320 

ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 335 

HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW 354 

ULYSSES  S.  GRANT     .                                                              ,  369 


HISTORIC  AMERICANS. 


T. 


THE  STORY  OF  JOHN  WINTHROP,  OF 
BOSTON, 

CALLED    "  THE   WASHINGTON   OF    COLONIZATION." 


Born  at  Groton,  England,  January  22,  1588. 
Died  at  Boston,  Massachusetts,  March  26,  1649. 


"  When  his  life  shall  have  been  adequately  written  he  will 
be  recognized  as  one  of  the  very  noblest  figures  in  American 
history." — John  Fiske. 

ON  a  calm,  clear  April  morning  many  years  ago 
three  high-sterned,  square-rigged  ships  were  slip- 
ping out  of  the  English  channel,  their  prows  headed 
west.  Cowes  and  Yarmouth  had  long  been  left 
behind,  the  Needles  were  far  astern,  and  the  misty 
coastline  of  England  became  less  and  less  distinct 
to  starboard,  as  one  by  one  the  little  ships  steered 
into  the  broader  waters  of  the  widening  channel. 

It  was  good-by  to  home  at  last ;  and  men,  women, 
and  children  hung  gazing  over  the  rail,  curious, 
hopeful,  regretful,  determined,  or  sad,  as  their 
natures  and  desires  varied. 


2  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

Suddenly,  through  the  startled  air,  down  from 
the  masthead  of  the  "  Arbella,"  admiral  of  the  fleet, 
came  the  warning  cry  of  the  watcher  in  the  top, 
«  Hello !  the  deck !  " 

"  Ay,  ay  !  What  d'ye  see  aloft  ?  "  went  back  the 
response  to  the  topman's  hail. 

"  Eight  sail,  sir ;  well  astern,"  the  lookout 
reported.  "Look  like  Dunkirkers,  sir." 

Up  from  his  cabin  bustled  Capt.  Peter  Mil- 
bourne,  master  and  part  owner  of  the  "Arbella." 
He  had  heard  the  report. 

"  Eight  of  'em,  eh  ?  "  he  remarked,  peering  under 
shaggy  eyebrows  to  where,  far  astern,  the  keen 
eyes  of  the  lookout  in  the  top  had  marked  the  sus- 
picious sail.  "Must  be  those  Cap'n  Lowe  told  us 
he  had  seen  off  Dunnose  last  night." 

He  studied  the  weather  with  anxious  eye.  The 
wind  came  light,  though  fairly  steady,  from  the 
north,  but  the  practised  skipper  could  see  unmis- 
takable signs  of  dropping.  He  turned  to  one  of 
his  company,  a  staid  but  pleasant-faced  gentleman 
of  two  and  forty,  plainly  though  richly  dressed,  who, 
with  a  boy  at  either  hand,  was  looking  off  toward 
the  filmy,  almost  imperceptible  outlines  of  the  'men- 
acing masts  far  astern. 

"  Well,  governor,  what  say  you  ?  "  Captain  Mil- 
bourne  demanded. 

"  You  think  them  to  be  Dunkirkers  ?  "  queried 
the  governor. 

"  Like  as  not,  like  as  not,  sir,"  the  skipper  re- 


JOHN    WINTHROP.  3 

plied.  "  The  Spaniards  are  swarming  along  shore 
hereabouts,  from  Dunkirk  to  the  Lizard.  Cap'n 
Lowe  saw  a  good  ten  of  'em  off  Dunnose  last  night, 
he  said.  Yonder  rascals  may  be  'em.  I  warned 
you  of  the  risk,  you  know,  governor." 

"  I  know,  I  know;  and  we  took  the  risk,  you  as 
well  as  I,"  the  governor  replied.  "  But,  for  the 
end,  we  must  be  knit  together  in  this  work  as  one 
man.  Therefore,  Master  Milbourne,  we  are  in 
your  hands.  What  you  say,  we  do." 

"  Then,  if  needs  must,  it 's  fight,"  the  skipper  de- 
clared stoutly.  "  They  have  the  wind  of  us,  and 
can  show  a  better  foot  than  we  can  heels.  Mate, 
clear  the  deck  for  action ;  unsling  the  hammocks, 
free  the  gun-room,  have  the  ordnance  well  shotted, 
hoist  up  the  powder-chests  and  fireworks,  order  out 
the  small-arms,  quarter  the  landsmen  among  the 
seamen,  let  twenty-five  act  as  marksmen,  and  have 
every  man  told  off  for  his  quarter.  Then  let  'em 
come.  We  '11  give  the  Dons  as  good  as  they  send, 
or  my  name  is  not  Peter  Milbourne." 

"  Master  of  the  '  Arbella '  and  admiral  of  the 
fleet!  "  added  the  governor  with  emphasis.  "  Count 
every  landsman  among  us  a  fighter,  master.  'T  was 
hereabouts  that  Englishmen  laid  the  Armada  by  the 
heels,  thanks  to  God's  mercy,  the  very  year  I  was 
born.  With  the  Lord's  help  we  may  do  it  again 
this  day.  Shall  I  bid  those  of  us  who  may  not 
fight  —  the  women  and  children,  master — to  go 
below?" 


4  HISTORIC   AMERICANS, 

"  Not  yet,  not  yet,  governor,"  the  watchful  skip- 
per replied.  "The  Dons  are  far  astern  yet  and 
the  wind  may  shift.  They  can't  be  a-foul  of  us  for 
hours,  even  if  this  "wind  holds." 

Little  Adam,  the  younger  of  the  two  boys,  looked 
up  at  the  governor,  his  father,  with  wide-open  eyes. 

"  Don't  let  them  come,  sir,  the  wicked  Spaniards. 
I  am  afraid,"  he  said.  "Oh,  send  them  off,  sir! 
You  are  the  governor." 

His  brother,  the  twelve-year-old  Stephen,  re- 
garded the  smaller  boy  with  the  lofty  superiority 
of  three  years'  seniority. 

"  Be  not  afraid,  Adam,  while  father  and  I  are 
here,"  he  said.  "  My  fowling-piece  is  in  the  great 
cabin.  Shall  not  Adam  go  below  to  the  Lady  Ar- 
bella,  father?  I  will  stay  here  and  fight  the  Dons 
with  you." 

Capt.  Peter  Milbourne  laughed  the  sailor's 
hearty  laugh  and  clapped  the  governor's  son  on 
the  shoulder. 

"  Spoken  like  a  chip  of  the  old  block,  lad,"  he 
cried.  "The  governor  will  make  you  general  of 
his  forces  when  he  is  come  to  New  England. 
There's  spirit  for  you,  governor." 

"  Pray  Heaven  there  be  no  fighting,  lads ! "  the 
governor  made  answer.  "But  if  the  Spaniards 
come,  my  brave  Stephen  shall  rather  keep  up  the 
little  lad's  heart  below  the  decks.  There  is  duty 
everywhere,  my  sou,"  he  added.  But  Stephen 
already,  had  scampered  to  fetch  his  fowling-piece. 


CAPT     PETER    MILBOURNE    LAUGHED,  AND   CLAPPED  THE  GOVERNOR'S   SON 
ON   THE  SHOULDER. 


JOHN    WINTHROP.  5 

So  through  the  morning  the  preparation  for  fight 
went  on ;  but,  even  as  noon  came,  the  light  north 
wind  dropped,  as  the  captain  had  feared,  and  the 
sea  lay  calm.  What  little  wind  there  was  held 
with  the  pursuing  craft,  and  nearer  and  nearer  they 
came. 

Then  the  "  Arbella  "  signalled  her  consorts,  the 
"  Talbot,"  the  "  Ambrose  "  and  the  "  Jewel ;  "  and 
as  they  drew  together  Captain  Milbourne  hailed 
the  other  masters  and  bade  them  clear  for  action 
too. 

On  each  of  the  little  ships  the  preparations  for 
defence  went  quickly  forward.  Upon  the  "  Ar- 
bella "  the  cabin  houses  were  taken  down  so  as  to 
give  a  clear  deck  to  the  guns ;  bedding  and  other 
inflammable  stuffs  were  tossed  overboard ;  the  long- 
boats were  made  ready  for  launching,  and  the  crew 
and  landsmen  drawn  up  for  action.  The  governor 
was  foremost  in  all  these  musterings ;  and  for  one 
of  them  Captain  Milbourne  made  ready  a  fire-ball 
which  he  shot  across  the  water  to  try  the  marks- 
men at  the  fire-arrow.  The  governor  went  about 
exhorting,  enlivening,  and  strengthening,  bidding 
the  men  stand  fast  for  God  and  England,  and 
seeing  that  the  women  and  children  were  removed 
to  the  lower  deck  for  safety  and  security.  And 
so  brave  were  his  words,  so  lofty  was  his  spirit,  so 
serene  his  faith  in  the  issue,  that  something  of  his 
courage  and  steadfastness  was  communicated  to  all 
on  board  that  threatened  ship ;  for,  as  he  himself 


6  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

assures  us,  "it  was  much  to  see  how  cheerful  and 
comfortable  all  the  company  appeared ;  not  a 
woman  or  child  that  showed  fear,  though  all  did 
apprehend  the  danger  to  have  been  great  if  things 
proved  as  might  be  well  expected."  So  much  may 
one  great-hearted  leader  do  toward  strengthening 
those  who  rely  upon  him. 

All  being  at  last  ready,  as  he  had  comforted  the 
women  in  the  cabin,  he  now  inspired  the  men  on 
deck ;  for,  when  they  were  ready  to  fight,  then  the 
governor  addressed  them. 

"  They  are  eight  against  four,  my  brothers,"  he 
said,  "  and  the  least  of  them,  so  our  captain  reports, 
carries  thirty  brass  pieces.  But  we  have  beaten 
back  the  Spaniards  before,  even  as  our  fathers,  by 
God's  grace,  overthrew  the  Armada.  Trust  me, 
we  shall  do  it  again,  for  our  trust  is  in  the  Lord  of 
Hosts  and  the  care  and  courage  of  our  captain. 
Quit  ye  like  men,  my  brothers,  and  neither  Spain 
nor  Dunkirkers  shall  prevail  against  us." 

And  then,  the  governor  tells  us,  "  We  all  went 
to  prayer  upon  the  upper  deck." 

Strengthened  by  the  governor's  brave  words  and 
stout  bearing,  the  whole  company  awaited  the  issue 
in  confidence,  while  plucky  Captain  Milbourne, 
audacious  in  his  devices,  suddenly  gave  order  to 
the  whole  little  fleet  to  come  about  and  boldly  sail 
straight  against  the  foe. 

"If  we  fight,  we  fight,"  he  said,  "and  let  us 
begin  it.  I  '11  have  this  over  before  night  comes 


JOHN    WINTHROP.  7 

down,  for  delay  is  ever  dangerous.  The  English- 
man's to-day  is  better  than  the  Don's  to-morrow." 

So,  straight  against  the  foe  they  sailed  at  high 
noon  of  that  April  day.  The  gunners  stood  at  their 
pieces,  matches  in  hand.  Seamen,  landsmen,  gen- 
tlemen, and  comrades  ranged  themselves  for  fight, 
conscious  of  their  danger,  yet  grimly  resolved  to 
defend  valiantly  to  the  last  their  precious  freight 
of  women  and  children  and  the  cause  they  upheld. 
For  the  governor  had  put  spirit  into  them  all. 

The  league  of  distance  lessened  to  a  mile,  to  a 
half,  to  a  quarter ;  and  then  captains  and  gunners, 
gentlemen  and  seamen,  echoed  the  glad  cry  that 
came  from  the  watchers  in  the  tops. 

"  Friends  !  They  are  friends  !  "  was  the  cry,  and 
Captain  Milbourne  led  off  his  men  in  a  ringing 
English  cheer  caught  up  and  echoed  by  both  the 
nearing  fleets. 

"  Ship,  ahoy !  "  he  shouted  as  the  foremost  vessels 
drew  together.  "  Where  from  and  whither  bound  ?  " 
And  soon  they  knew  them  all  for  friends  indeed  — 
the  "  Little  Neptune  "  of  twenty  guns,  with  her  two 
consorts,  bound  for  the  Straits,  a  ship  of  Flushing, 
a  Frenchman,  and  three  other  English  ships,  bound 
for  Canada  and  Newfoundland. 

And,  as  they  met,  each  ship  saluted;  the  mus- 
keteers fired  their  pieces  in  air ;  greetings  and  god- 
speeds were  exchanged ;  the  "  Arbella  "  and  her 
consorts  tacked  about  and  headed  again  for  the 
open  sea,  while  the  governor  said,  "  God  be  praised!  " 


8  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

and  hurried  below  to  join  his  little  sons,  reassure 
the  Lady  Arbella  and  the  other  women  of  his  com- 
pany, and  write  down  in  his  journal  the  whole  ex- 
citing story  of  that  day's  adventure  and  how,  again, 
"  God  be  praised,"  he  wrote,  "  our  fear  and  danger 
were  turned  into  mirth  and  friendly  entertainment ! " 

And  this  is  our  introduction  to  the  Worshipful 
John  Winthrop,  gentleman,  late  of  Groton,  Eng- 
land, but  now,  in  this  year  of  grace  1630,  governor 
of  the  Colony  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  of  which 
Emigration  Company  those  four  small  ships  were 
the  advance  fleet,  bound  for  that  wild  and  scarcely 
known  section  of  the  western  world  called  New 
England. 

A  faithful  keeper  of  a  journal  was  the  Worship- 
ful Governor  John  Winthrop,  and  it  is  because  of 
that  remarkable  diary  that  the  world  to-day  knows 
so  much  of  the  Puritans  of  New  England,  and, 
reading  between  the  lines,  can  so  well  acquaint 
itself  with  the  bearing,  the  character,  and  the 
wisdom  of  that  great  and  noble  American,  John 
Winthrop,  of  Boston  town,  —  "  the  forerunner,"  so 
the  English  historian  Doyle  assures  us,  "  of 
Washington  and  Hamilton." 

The  coming  of  John  Winthrop  and  his  Puritans 
to  Boston  was  not  like  the  arrival  of  the  Pilgrims 
at  Plymouth.  For  they  landed  near  the  famous 
rock  in  midwinter,  when 

u  The  woods  against  a  stormy  sky 
Their  giant  branches  tost;" 


JOHN    WINTHROP.  9 

but  Governor  John  Winthrop's  Puritan  emigrants 
went  ashore  in  strawberry-time,  when  all  the  fair 
land  along  Massachusetts  bay  looks  brightest  and 
greenest,  —  in  beautiful  June,  —  and  when,  after  a 
few  weeks  at  his  first  settlement,  called  Charles- 
town,  he  could  write  to  his  scarcely  less  famous 
son,  still  in  England,  that  he  could  see  but  little 
difference  between  Old  and  New  England.  "  Here 
is  as  good  land,"  he  wrote,  "  as  I  have  seen  there, 
but  none  so  bad  as  there.  Here  is  sweet  air,  fair 
rivers,  and  plenty  of  springs,  and  the  water  better 
than  in  England." 

But  sorry  days  were  in  store  for  the  governor 
and  his  companions.  Unused  to  the  harsh  New 
England  winter  that  came  in  due  season  many 
sickened  and  died  —  pneumonia  then  as  now  being 
the  fatal  visitor.  Among  others  his  diary  records 
the  early  death  of  the  fair  dame  for  whom  had 
been  named  the  ship  that  had  brought  over  the 
governor ;  in  which  she,  too,  had  been  a  passenger 
when,  with  the  governor's  consent,  the  little  vessel 
had  come  about  and  sailed  straight  in  the  teeth  of 
the  supposed  Spaniards.  This  was  the  gracious 
and  gentle  Lady  Arbella  Johnson,  of  whom  Cotton 
Mather,  the  great  Puritan  preacher,  quaintly  and 
touchingly  said,  "She  took  New  England  on  her 
way  to  heaven." 

But  times  bettered  as  the  days  went  by.  The 
hermit  clergyman,  the  Rev.  William  Blackstone, 
who  had  a  farm  across  the  river  on  what  is  now 


10  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

Beacon  hill  in  Boston,  told  the  governor  of  an 
excellent  spring-lot  near  his  farm,  where  now 
stands  the  big  granite  Boston  post-office,  and,  so 
says  Winthrop's  diary,  "the  governor,  with  Mr. 
Wilson  and  the  greatest  part  of  the  church, 
removed  thither;  whither  also  the  frame  of  the 
governor's  house  was  carried.  There  people  began 
to  build  their  houses  against  the  winter ;  and  this 
place  was  called  Boston." 

That  very  summer  of  1631  brought  over  the  gov- 
ernor's dear  wife,  Margaret  Winthrop,  a  gracious 
and  in  many  respects  a  remarkable  woman.  How 
glad  the  governor  was  his  faithful  diary  records. 
For  it  tells  how  the  governor  went  down  to  Nan- 
tasket  to  meet  his  wife  and  children ;  how  they 
were  received  with  salutes  as  they  landed ;  and  how 
all  the  people  welcomed  Mrs.  Winthrop  so  heartily 
that,  as  the  proud  governor  records,  "  the  like  joy 
and  manifestation  of  love  had  never  been  seen  in 
New  England."  Even  Governor  Bradford,  of  Plym- 
outh (another  remarkable  man  who  also  kept  a 
remarkable  diary),  came  to  pay  a  visit  of  congratu- 
lation to  "his  much-honored  and  beloved  friend, 
the  governor  of  Massachusetts,"  -  -  for  in  that  day 
Plymouth  of  the  Pilgrims  was  a  distinct  settlement 
from  Boston  of  the  Puritans. 

From  that  time  until  his  death,  in  1649,  John 
Winthrop,  with  but  a  few  breaks,  was  governor 
of  Massachusetts.  With  the  same  serene  and  even 
disposition  that  we  see  in  Washington,  Lincoln, 


JOHN    WINTHROP.  11 

and  other  great  men,  he  met  with  patience  all  the 
worries,  disasters,  and  troubles,  and  welcomed  with 
modesty  all  the  joys  and  triumphs,  that  came  to 
the  governor  of  a  new  and  growing  settlement,  to 
which  flocked  all  manner  of  men,  and  in  which  were 
all  sorts  of  opinions.  There  were  rivalries  and  dis- 
putes which  only  he  could  settle ;  there  were  dif- 
ferences of  political  opinion  and  religious  belief 
which  called  for  his  wisest  counsel  and  calmest  de- 
cision ;  there  were  troubles  within  and  without  the 
borders  of  the  little  colony  that  demanded  some- 
times stern  measures,  and  sometimes  cautious 
handling,  by  this  clear-headed,  large-hearted,  noble- 
minded  man. 

Winthrop's  reputation  in  England  as  a  respon- 
sible and  honorable  man,  as  a  man  of  business  abil- 
ity, firmness,  justice,  and  wise  administration,  made 
men  believe  in  the  future  of  the  Massachusetts 
Bay  Colony,  and  influenced  the  large  emigration 
that  came  over  the  sea  to  Boston.  The  colony  he 
had  organized  grew  and  prospered ;  and  though  it 
went  through  many  experiences  in  bigotry,  selfish- 
ness, and  unwise  legislation,  it  is  well  to  remember 
that  to  none  of  these  was  John  Winthrop  a  party, 
although,  frequently  and  against  his  better  judg- 
ment, he  felt  the  wisdom  of  compromise,  and  knew 
that  peace  and  prosperity  could  only  come  by 
yielding  to  the  will  of  the  majority.  He  let  Roger 
Williams  go,  consented  to  the  banishment  of  Anne 
Hutchinson,  and  did  not  agree  with  the  methods 


12  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

of  young  Sir  Harry  Vane.  But  for  every  such 
action  he  had  a  good  reason,  and  above  even  his 
own  desires  he  placed  the  welfare  and  unity  of  the 
colony.  Under  his  wise  administration  the  Massa- 
chusetts Bay  Colony  "grew  and  waxed  strong;" 
settlements  sprang  up  along  the  curving  shore  of 
the  bay  and  pushed  boldly  toward  the  hill-country  to 
the  west ;  while,  for  all  the  firm  footing  and  dawning 
prosperity  of  its  early  days,  the  Bay  State  may  ever 
femember  with  reverence  and  pride  the  steadfast, 
loyal,  level-headed,  and  great-hearted  governor 
whom  men  have  rightfully  called  "  The  Father  of 
Massachusetts." 

During  one  of  the  breaks  in  his  own  service,  when 
his  bitterest  rival,  Thomas  Dudley,  was  governor, 
certain  charges  were  brought  against  Winthrop 
because,  as  magistrate,  he  had  sent  to  jail  certain 
offenders  against  the  law.  His  action  had  been 
just  and  lawful,  but  he  appeared  in  answer  to  the 
complaint  and  refused  to  sit  upon  the  bench,  to 
which  seat  of  honor  his  rank  entitled  him.  The 
place  for  an  accused  prisoner,  he  said,  was  within 
the  bar,  and  there  he  sat  "  uncovered  "  while  for 
weeks  the  trial  or  "impeachment,"  as  it  was 
termed,  went  on. 

He  was  acquitted,  of  course,  for  he  was  in  the 
right  and  his  accusers  were  in  the  wrong.  They 
were  punished  by  fines  and  censure,  and  then  only, 
his  trial  over,  did  Winthrop  consent  to  take  his 
proper  seat  on  the  bench. 


JOHN    WINTHROP.  13 

But  as  he  did  so  he  asked  permission  to  make 
"  a  little  speech ; "  and  that  speech  has  lived  to  this 
day  as  one  of  the  noblest  utterances  of  America, 
fit  to  be  classed  with  Washington's  farewell  address 
and  Lincoln's  speech  at  Gettysburg.  Wise,  calm, 
forcible,  dignified,  and  convincing,  it  is  noble  in  its 
language,  direct  in  its  argument,  patriotic  in  its 
motive,  and  almost  prophetic  in  its  statement. 
For  in  that  speech,  which  is  really  a  definition  of 
true  liberty,  John  Winthrop  voiced  the  same  high 
sentiment  which,  one  hundred  and  thirty  years  later, 
led  the  patriots  of  the  American  Revolution  to  make 
their  immortal  stand  for  justice,  liberty,  and  right. 

"There  are  two  kinds  of  liberty,"  said  John 
Winthrop  in  this  remarkable  speech.  "  One  is  nat- 
ural liberty,  common  to  man  and  beast  alike,  which 
is  incompatible  with  authority  and  cannot  endure 
restraint.  This  liberty,"  he  said,  "  if  unrestrained, 
makes  men  grow  more  evil,  and  it  is  the  great 
enemy  of  truth  and  peace,  needing  the  laws  of  God 
and  man  to  restrain  and  subdue  it."  This  is  the 
fancied  liberty  that  reckless  and  evil  men,  in  our 
own  day,  falsely  call  liberty,  and  seek  to  break 
down  just  and  proper  laws  in  their  efforts  to  obtain 
it.  It  is  not  liberty  ;  it  is  license. 

"  The  other  kind  of  liberty,"  said  noble  John 
Winthrop,  "  I  call  civil,  or  federal  ;  it  may  also  be 
termed  moral,  in  reference  to  the  covenant  between 
God  and  man,  in  the  moral  law,  and  the  politic 
covenants  and  constitutions  amongst  men  them- 


14  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

selves.  This  liberty  is  the  proper  end  and  object 
of  authority,  and  cannot  subsist  without  it ;  and  it 
is  a  liberty  to  do  that  only  which  is  good,  just,  and 
honest.  This  liberty  you  are  to  stand  for  with  the 
hazard  not  only  of  your  goods,  but  of  your  lives,  if 
need  be.  Whatsoever  crosses  this  is  not  authority, 
but  a  distemper  thereof.  This  liberty  is  maintained 
and  exercised  in  a  way  of  subjection  to  authority ; 
it  is  of  the  same  kind  of  liberty  wherewith  Christ 
has  made  us  free." 

Is  not  this  a  noble  and  righteous  utterance  of  a 
great  truth  ?  How  noble,  right,  and  true  it  was,  and 
how  deeply  it  was  burned  into  the  hearts  of  all  true 
patriots  and  loyal  Americans,  you  can  see  if  you 
will  read  this  verse  from  a  notable  poem,  spoken  in 
the  days  of  the  Republic's  stress  by  a  young  and 
patriotic  American,  two  hundred  and  sixteen  years 
after  John  Winthrop  had  made  his  "  little  speech ; " 
it  was  spoken,  too,  within  the  walls  of  that  very 
college  "  at  Cambridge,  in  Massachusetts,"  which 
John  Winthrop  helped  to  found : 

"  0  Law,  fair  form  of  Liberty,  God's  light  is  on  thy  brow ; 

O  Liberty,  thou  soul  of  Law,  God's  very  self  art  thou ! 

One  the  clear  river's  sparkling  flood  that  clothes  the  bank  with 

green, 

And  one  the  line  of  stubborn  rock  that  holds  the  waters  in ; 
Friends  whom  we  cannot  think  apart,  seeming  each  other's  foe, 
Twin  flowers  upon  a  single  stalk  with  equal  grace  that  grow. 
O  fair  ideas  !  we  write  your  names  across  our  banner's  fold ; 
For  you  the  sluggard's  brain  is  fire,  for  you  the  coward  bold ; 
O,  daughter  of  the  bleeding  past !     O,  hope  the  prophets  saw  ! 
God  give  us  Law  in  Liberty,  and  Liberty  in  Law  !  " 


JOHN    WJNTHROP.  15 

And  how  like  an  echo  of  the  great  Puritan  governor's 
solemn  words  —  "  This  liberty  you  are  to  stand  for 
with  the  hazard  not  only  of  your  goods,  but  of  your 
lives,  if  need  be  "  —  sounds  that  brave  closing  assur- 
ance of  the  immortal  Declaration  of  Independence, 
of  July  4,  1776 :  "  For  the  support  of  this  Declara- 
tion, with  a  firm  reliance  on  the  protection  of  Divine 
Providence,  we  mutually  pledge  to  each  other  our 
lives,  our  fortunes,  and  bur  sacred  honor  "  !  how  like 
its  echo  too  rings  the  closing  verse  of  that  same 
Commencement  poem  in  the  battle-year  of  1861 : 

"  0,  mothers,  sisters,  daughters,  spare  the  tears  ye  fain  would 

shed, 

Who  seem  to  die  in  such  a  cause,  ye  cannot  call  them  dead ; 
They  live  upon  the  lips  of  men,  in  picture,  bust,  and  song, 
And  Nature  folds  them  in  her  heart,  and  keeps  them  safe  from 

wrong. 

O,  length  of  days  is  not  a  boon  the  brave  man  prayeth  for ; 
There  are  a  thousand  evils  worse  than  death  or  any  war : 
Oppression  with  his  iron  strength  fed  on  the  souls  of  men, 
And  License  with  the  hungry  brood  that  haunts  his  ghastly  den ; 
But,  like  bright  stars,  ye  fill  the  eye,  adoring  hearts  ye  draw, 
O,  sacred  grace  of  Liberty  !     0,  majesty  of  Law  !  " 

So  the  centuries  clasp  hands,  and  the  words  of 
the  great  governor  live  again  in  the  hearts  of  all  true 
Americans  to-day.  "  It  is  the  same  kind  of  liberty 
wherewith  Christ  has  made  us  free,"  said  John 
Winthrop  in  1640.  ';  In  the  name  of  humanity,  in 
the  name  of  civilization,  in  behalf  of  endangered 
American  interests  which  give  us  the  right  and  the 
duty  to  speak  and  act,  the  war  in  Cuba  must  stop," 


16  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

wrote  William  McKinley  in  1898.  Liberty  is  not 
license,  for  liberty  is  law.  • 

Twelve  times  was  John  Winthrop  elected  gov- 
ernor of  Massachusetts.  As  governor,  magistrate, 
and  soldier  he  gave  to  the  organizing,  upbuilding, 
and  development  of  that  struggling  but  successful 
colony  the  life  and  strength,  the  grace  and  wisdom, 
of  twenty  busy  years,  and  when  on  the  twenty- 
sixth  of  March,  1649,  aged  only  sixty-one,  he  died 
at  his  house  on  Spring  lane,  in  Boston  (where 
to-day  stands  the  tall  Winthrop  building),  all  the 
colony  .  mourned.  "  A  governor,"  said  Cotton 
Mather,  the  preacher,  "  who  had  been  unto  us  as 
a  mother,  parent-like  distributing  his  goods  to 
brethren  and  neighbors  at  his  first  coming,  and 
gently  bearing  our  infirmities  without  taking  notice 
of  them." 

What  he  did  for  his  colony  has  blessed  all 
America.  His  hatred  of  intolerance,  his  bold  stand 
for  freedom  of  speech?  his  wisdom  and  generosity 
in  business  methods,  his  leniency  and  brotherliness 
toward  all,  his  devotion  to  duty  whether  it  were 
small  or  great,  his  high  respect  for  law,  his  pas- 
sionate love  of  liberty,  his  honesty  in  business  dif- 
ficulties, his  silence  under  abuse,  his  modesty  in 
victory,  his  courtesy  toward  strangers,  his  devotion 
to  his  family,  his  loyalty  to  his  friends,  his  great 
desire  for  unity  among  all  the  American  colonies, 
his  firm  faith  in  the  future  of  the  land  he  had  made 
his  home,  his  detestation  of  bigotry,  his  courage  in 


JOHN    W1NTHROP.  17 

time  of  danger,  his  serenity,  his  diligence,  his  public 
spirit,  his  self-denial,  and  his  foresight  —  all  unite  in 
making  him  not  alone  a  great  man,  but  a  great  and 
historic  American,  worthy  to  stand,  as  one  of  his 
chroniclers  declares,  "  as  a  parallel  to  Washington." 


II. 


THE   STORY   OF    BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN, 
OF   PHILADELPHIA, 

CALLED   BY  ALL  EUROPE  "  LE   GRAND  FRANKLIN." 


Born  at  Boston,  Massachusetts,  January  17, 1706. 
Died  at  Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania,  April  17,  1790. 


"  No  American  has  attained  to  greatness  in  so  many  ways  or 
has  made  so  lasting  an  impression  on  his  countrymen." — John 
Bach  McMaster. 

IN  the  very  heart  of  the  great  city  of  Philadel- 
phia, near  where,  to-day,  the  massive  City  building 
towers  above  the  town,  there  stood,  one  hundred 
and  fifty  years  ago,  a  humble  cow-shed.  Built 
as  a  shelter  for  the  cattle  which  grazed  upon  the 
public  "  commons  "  thereabout,  that  cow-shed,  from 
a  certain  June  day  in  1752,  was  destined  to  become 
one  of  the  most  famous  buildings  in  all  America. 

For,  on  that  June  day  of  1752,  a  stout,  middle- 
aged  gentleman  of  forty-six,  and  a  fresh-looking 
young  fellow  of  twenty-two,  walked  straight  for 
the  cow-shed  on  the  commons.  The  younger  man 
carried  under  his  arm  what  looked  like  a  bottle  ; 
the  older  man  bore  a  good-sized  kite. 

18 


BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN.  19 

There  was  thunder  in  the  air ;  the  clouds  were 
gathering  fast;  there  was  every  indication  that 
a  shower  was  coming  up ;  —  rather  an  odd  time 
to  go  kite-flying  for  fun !  But  these  two  gentle- 
men did  not  look  as  if  they  were  about  to  fly 
a  kite  for  fun.  Indeed,  the  younger  man  appeared 
just  a  bit  foolish,  for  he  was  something  of  a 
"swell,"  and  seemed  just  a  trifle  troubled  lest 
some  one  might  catch  him  at  such  childish  sport. 
Even  the  older  man  glanced  around  as  they  neared 
the  cow-shed,  with  the  bottle  and  the  kite,  as  if 
fearing  that  some  one  might  recognize  them  and 
poke  a  little  fun  at  him  and  his  "  toys." 

But  if  there  had  been  such  a  person  about  and 
he  had  looked  at  the  kite  the  stout  gentleman  held 
so  gingerly  he  would  have  seen  that  it  was  no 
common  kite.  It  was  a  good-sized  one,  made  of  a 
big  silk  handkerchief,  and  from  the  end  of  the 
central  upright  stick  there  extended  a  piece  of 
iron  wire,  sharpened  at  the  end. 

The  wind  was  strong  and  the  silken  kite,  after 
a  few  attempts  at  raising,  caught  the  current  and 
sailed  finely  upward,  while  the  young  man,  step- 
ping into  the  cow-shed,  set  down  the  bottle  and 
then  stood  watching  his  father's  kite  —  for  the  two 
were  father  and  son. 

The  storm  came,  surely  enough,  just  as  they 
expected,  and  the  two  slipped  within  the  shelter  of 
the  cow-shed,  and  "out  of  the  wet,"  anxiously 
watching  the  kite  and  the  flying  thunder-clouds. 


20  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

The  kite  had  been  raised  on  a  strong  hempen 
string,  but  if  you  had  been  there  too  you  would 
have  noticed  that  when  the  kite  was  well  up  the 
young  man's  father,  who  was  flying  the  kite,  held 
in  his  hand,  attached  to  the  hempen  kite-cord,  a 
silken  string  from  which  hung  a  big  door-key. 

A  heavy  cloud  came  sailing  directly  over  the 
kite. 

"  No  lightning  in  that,  father,"  the  young  man 
observed  critically. 

"  None  yet,  Billy,"  his  father  replied.  "  But 
wait  a  bit.  It  may  come." 

The  rain  came  pouring  down  and  the  younger 
man  looked  around  uneasily. 

"  I  'm  afraid  people  will  think  we  're  a  couple  of 
crazy  folks,  flying  kites  in  the  rain,"  he  said. 

But  his  father  smiled  serenely. 

"  There  are  crazier  folks  than  we  are,  Billy,"  he 
answered,  anxiously  scanning  the  cloud.  "  You 
know  what  Poor  Richard  says,  '  Let  thy  discontents 
be  thy  secrets.'  Don't  you  fret,  my  boy,  if  there  is 
no  one  by  to  fret  with  you.  I  don't  fret  about 
folks ;  I  'm  watching  for  that  lightning.  If  it 
does  n't  come  we  're  beaten  —  for  to-day." 

It  seemed  for  a  while  as  if  they  were  beaten,  if 
their  desires  depended  upon  the  lightning,  for  there 
appeared  to  be  no  electricity  astir  in  that  black 
cloud.  But  they  waited  patiently.  Then,  sud- 
denly, just  as  the  kite-flyer  had  given  a  sigh  of  dis- 
content, his  face  brightened. 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN.  21 

"  Look,  Billy ! "  he  cried.  "  See  the  string !  The 
fibres  are  rising.  It 's  there,  my  boy,  it 's  there  sure 
enough,  and  I  've  caught  it !  " 

Something  was  there  certainly.  One  by  one  the 
fibres  of  the  hempen  string  began  to  rise,  very  much 
as  you  can  see  the  hair  rise  011  the  head  of  one  who 
stands  upon  the  insulating  stool  when  the  teacher 
experiments  in  the  natural  philosophy  class. 

"  Quick,  Billy  !  Have  the  jar  ready !  "  the  experi- 
menter cried,  as  he  applied  his  knuckle  to  the  key. 
"  Hurrah !  See  that !  Did  you  see  that,  Billy  ?  A 
spark,  a  spark,  and  a  good  one,  too  !  Here,  take  the 
string  and  try  it  yourself.  There  !  Did  you  feel  the 
shock  ?  I  've  proved  it,  boy !  I  Ve  proved  it ! 
Charge  the  Leyden  jar !  " 

Spark  after  spark  was  drawn  from  the  pendent 
key  by  the  knuckles  of  the  excited  pair.  Then  the 
Leyclen  jar  —  the  prepared  bottle  that  "  Billy  "  had 
brought  along  —  was  held  close  to  the  key  and 
charged  with  the  electricity  drawn  from  the  thunder- 
cloud. And  as  it  was  charged  both  father  and  son 
received  and  felt  through  their  sensitive  frames  an 
electric  shock  that  well-nigh  knocked  them  over; 
indeed,  the  same  electrical  test,  tried  soon  after  by  a 
Russian  professor,  quite  knocked  the  life  out  of  him, 
so  strong  and  fatal  was  this  dangerous  experiment. 

But  neither  father  nor  son  thought  of  danger. 
The  philosopher  had  proved  his  theory.  He  had 
actually  drawn  down  the  lightning  from  heaven ; 
he  had  demonstrated  the  fact  that  electricity  did 


22  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

exist  in  and  could  be  captured  from  the  clouds,  and 
for  the  sake  of  that  victory  he  would  have  risked 
being  knocked  over  by  his  captive  a  hundred  times. 

At  last  the  clouds  broke,  the  reservoir  was  ex- 
hausted, the  wet  kite  was  hauled  in,  and  father  and 
son  went  back  to  their  pleasant  home  on  Chestnut 
street,  drenched  but  happy,  to  publish  to  the  world 
the  success  of  the  great  experiment  of  Benjamin 
Franklin,  of  Philadelphia,  —  a  success  that  was  to 
startle  and  arouse  the  whole  scientific  world  of  that 
unscientific  day. 

For  that  philosophical  kite-flyer  was  Benjamin 
Franklin,  of  Philadelphia,  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able men  that  has  ever  lived  in  all  the  world.  In- 
deed, there  never  was  a  man  who  knew  quite  so 
much  about  so  many  things  and  knew,  also,  how 
to  turn  his  acquired  knowledge  to  such  good  ac- 
count. From  the  day  when  as  a  boy,  in  a  Boston 
pond,  he  showed  his  playfellows  how  to  tow  them- 
selves through  the  water  by  the  aid  of  a  kite,  to  the 
day,  seventy-five  years  later,  when  he  formed  the 
first  anti-slavery  society  in  America,  he  was  always 
busy  over  something  that  should  lighten  the  labors 
or  improve  the  condition  of  his  fellow-men.  What 
he  knew  he  had  learned  for  himself  through  long 
and  sometimes  hard  experience ;  but  failure  never 
discouraged  him,  nor  could  disaster  keep  him 
down. 

He  was  absolutely  what  we  call  a  self-made  man. 
The  son  of  a  hard-working  soap  and  candle  maker 


SPARK  AFTER    SPARK    WAS    DRAWN    FROM    THE    PENDENT    KEY. 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN.  23 

of  Boston,  he  was  born  in  the  very  shadow  of  the 
Old  South  Church ;  but  his  schooling  stopped  alto- 
gether before  he  was  ten  years  old.  His  self-edu- 
cation had,  however,  begun  even  at  that  early 
age ;  it  never  stopped  until  the  day  of  his  death. 
But  when  that  day  came,  late  in  his  busy  life,  he  had 
by  patience  and  persistence,  through  steady  applica- 
tion and  often  through  harsh  experiences,  raised 
himself  from  an  ill-used  "printer's  devil"  to  the 
lofty  position  of  the  most  learned,  the  most  versa- 
tile, and  the  best-known  man  of  his  day  in  all 
America,  the  best-known  American  in  all  Europe. 

A  certain  clever  and  admiring  Frenchman  once 
said  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  "  He  snatched  the 
thunderbolt  from  heaven  and  the  sceptre  from 
tyrants."  I  have  told  you  how,  by  the  aid  of  his 
kite  and  his  key,  he  did  the  first ;  let  me  try  to  tell 
you  how,  by  wit  and  patriotism,  he  did  the  second. 

He  was  one  of  the  very  first  Americans  to  teach 
his  fellow-countrymen  the  lesson  of  liberty.  For 
twenty-five  years,  from  1732,  the  year  in  which 
Washington  was  born,  to  1758,  when  Franklin  was 
sent  to  London  as  the  spokesman  or  agent  for  the 
colonies,  this  cheerful  philosopher  published  a 
yearly  pamphlet  which  he  called  "  Poor  Richard's 
Almanack,"  and  which,  besides  talking  about 
dates  and  the  weather,  was  full  of  wise  maxims 
and  clever  proverbs.  These  the  people  of  America 
speedily  learned  by  heart.  You  know  some  of  them 
yet: 


24  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

"-Early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise 
Makes  a  man  healthy,  wealthy,  and  wise." 

That  was  one  of  them.  "Haste  makes  waste," 
"  three  removes  are  as  bad  as  a  fire."  These  all 
are  familiar  to-day.  But  he  had  other  sayings 
that  had  even  deeper  meanings:  "God  helps 
them  that  help  themselves,"  he  said ;  "  forewarned 
is  forearmed,"  "  deny  self  for  self's  sake,"  "  there 
is  no  little  enemy,"  "  well  done  is  better  than  well 
said,"  "one  to-day  is  worth  two  to-morrows,'' 
"diligence  is  the  mother  of  good  luck,"  and 
many,  many  others,  just  as  short,  but  just  as 
strong.  No  one  knows  just  how  much  they  helped 
to  educate  the  children  of  one  generation  to  be 
the  self-respecting,  self-helpful  patriots  of  the  next. 
Mr.  Bigelow  declares  that  "for  a  period  of  twenty- 
six  years,  and  until  Franklin  ceased  to  edit  it,  this 
annual  was  looked  forward  to  by  a  larger  portion 
of  the  colonial  population  and  with  more  impa- 
tience than  now  awaits  a  President's  annual  mes- 
sage to  Congress."  Another  student  of  American 
history  has  set  it  down  as  his  judgment  that  there 
would  have  been  no  American  Revolution  if  there 
had  been  no  "  Poor  Richard's  Almanack." 

So  wise  a  man  could  not  be  spared  from  public 
service.  Long  before  the  Revolution  he  had  been 
called  to  responsible  duties.  He  was  the  first 
American  postmaster  to  make  the  post-office  use- 
ful to  the  people  and  to  make  it  pay  also.  His 
advice,  if  taken,  would  have  saved  the  colonies 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN.  25 

from  the  disgrace  of  Braddock's  defeat;  he  was 
the  first  to  propose  that  actual  union  of  the  colo- 
nies which  came  finally  when,  in  1776,  the  Conti- 
nental Congress,  which  Franklin  had  also  favored, 
established  the  United  States  of  America.  He 
was  one  of  the  most  important  signers  of  the  Dec- 
laration of  Independence,  and  when  the  help  of 
other  nations  was  sought  it  was  Benjamin  Franklin 
who  was  made  "  sole  Plenipotentiary  of  the  United 
States  to  the  Court  of  France,"  and  it  was  the 
exertions  of  this  wise  and  tactful  but  determined 
republican  that  wrested  from  a  king  and  court 
who  despised  republicanism  open  recognition  for 
the  struggling  Republic,  money  to  carry  on  the  war, 
and,  finally,  an  alliance  with  France  that  sent  over 
men  and  yet  more  money  to  America,  brought 
about  Yorktown  and  victory,  and  overthrew  for- 
ever in  America  the  power  of  King  George  of 
England  and  all  his  royal  successors.  Now  do 
you  not  see  how  the  second  part  of  the  clever 
Frenchman's  assertion  was  true?  Franklin  had 
indeed  "wrested  the  sceptre  from  tyrants." 

His  was  a  busy  life  through  eighty-four  impor- 
tant years.  Let  me  tell  you,  briefly,  just  how 
his  life  was  spent.  Born,  as  I  have  said,  in 
Boston  in  the  year  1706,  he  was  a  bright, 
wide-awake,  rather  mischievous  boy  who,  at  ten 
years  old,  was  set  to  work  at  candle-making, 
and  at  twelve  years  old  peddled  his  own  ballads  on 
the  streets  of  Boston.  Then  he  was  apprenticed  to 


26  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

his  brother  as  a  printer ;  but  because  he  had  to  do 
all  the  work  without  even  thanks  for  pay  he  deter- 
mined to  stand  it  no  longer.     So  he  set  out  to  run 
away  to  sea,  and  did  get  as  far  as  Philadelphia, 
where  he  went  to  work  as  a  printer.    There  he  was 
patronized  by   a   good-for-nothing  royal    governor 
who  sent  him  to  England  on  false  pretences,  but 
where,  because  he  had  a  trade,  he  did  not  starve, 
but  worked  for  two  years  as  a  printer  in  London. 
At  last  he  managed  to  get  back  to  Philadelphia, 
where  he  set  up  a  printing-office  of   his  own  on 
Market    street,    started    a    newspaper,    became    a 
bookseller,  and  published  an  almanac.      Then  he 
went   into  politics.      He  was    made  clerk  of   the 
Colonial  Assembly,  next   postmaster  of   Philadel- 
phia,   and,   at    forty-six,    the    king's    postmaster- 
general   for   all    the   American    colonies.      When 
Pennsylvania   got    into    trouble   with   her   rulers 
across  the  water  she  sent   Benjamin  Franklin  to 
London  as  her  agent  or  representative,  and  there 
he  served  his  home  colony  so  well  that  his  native 
colony  of  Massachusetts  asked  him  to  act  as  her 
agent  also.     Still  other  colonies  followed  suit,  so 
that,  in  1770,  he  was  agent  or  representative  in 
England  for  nearly  all  the  American  colonies.     He 
faced  the  Parliament  of  England,  before  which  he 
was  summoned  to  answer  many  leading  questions 
about  the  colonies.     But  he  told  that  proud  body 
the  truth  about  America,  and  after  remaining  in 
England  a  dozen  years  or  more  he  saw  that  war 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN.  27 

was  coming  and  returned  to  America  just  in  time 
to  be  sent  to  Congress  and  sign  the  Declaration  of 
Independence. 

That  same  year  of  1776  he  was  sent  across  the 
sea  again  as  minister  to  France,  and  there,  as  I  have 
told  you,  he  secured  the  friendship  and  aid  of 
England's  greatest  enemy,  and  thus  ended  the 
Revolution.  Then,  after  ten  years'  residence  in 
France,  he  came  home  again  to  be  made  president 
or  governor  of  his  own  State,  after  which  he  was 
sent  once  more  to  Congress,  where  he  helped  to 
frame  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  of 
which  he  was  the  oldest  signer.  Three  years  later, 
in  1790,  he  died  at  his  dearly-loved  home  in  Phila- 
delphia, at  eighty-four,  and  closed  a  life  remarkable 
for  great  achievements  and  noble  work  for  man- 
kind. 

That  was  a  busy  life  indeed !  Sixty  years  of 
his  eighty-four  were  spent  for  the  good  and  glory 
of  his  native  land.  Three  times  he  saved  it  from 
destruction,  defeat,  and  anarchy,  and  he  was  the 
only  man  in  all  history  who  signed,  in  the  course 
of  his  life  and  in  the  way  of  duty,  four  such  great 
and  immortal  documents  as  the  Declaration  of  In- 
dependence, the  treaty  of  alliance  between  France 
and  America,  the  treaty  of  peace  between  America 
and  Great  Britain,  and  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States  of  America.  Is  not  that  a  great 
record  for  a  great  American  ? 

But  Franklin's  services  to  his  country  were  but 


28  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

a  part  of  what  he  accomplished;  his  services  to 
humanity  make  an  even  longer  catalogue.  Even 
at  the  risk  of  being  tedious  I  wish  to  give  you  a 
partial  list  of  what  America's  "grand  old  man" 
did  for  the  comfort,  convenience,  and  bettering  of 
mankind. 

He  improved  the  printing-press  and  introduced 
stereotyping  and  manifold  letter  writing ;  he  sug- 
gested the  practical  use  of  kites,  now  being  studied 
by  many  scientific  men ;  he  cured  chimnies  of 
smoking ;  improved  the  shape  and  rig  of  ships  ;  saw 
and  explained  the  practical  use  of  the  Gulf  stream ; 
and  told  sailors  how  to  keep  provisions  fresh  at  sea. 
He  improved  soup  plates  for  men  and  drinking- 
troughs  for  horses  and  cattle;  he  drained  swamp 
lands  and  made  them  fertile  and  fruitful ;  he  im- 
proved fireplaces,  studied  out  an  excellent  system  of 
ventilation,  and  invented  stoves.  He  showed  how 
to  heat  public  buildings,  and  invented  automatic 
fans  to  cool  hot  rooms  and  drive  away  flies.  He 
made  double  spectacles  for  near-sighted  and  far- 
sighted  people,  invented  a  musical  instrument,  and 
improved  an  electrical  machine. 

He  taught  men  that  lightning  was  electricity, 
robbed  it  of  its  terrors,  and  made  it  do  the  will  of 
man ;  he  invented  lightning-rods,  and  was  the  first 
advocate  of  the  painless  killing  of  men  and  animals 
by  electricity  —  what  we  call  electrocution.  He 
started  the  first  spelling  reform ;  he  got  up  a  system 
of  phonography  and  shorthand ;  he  improved  car- 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN.  29 

riage  wheels,  windmills,  and  water-wheels  ;  he  made 
a  new  departure  in  roofing  and  roof-covering ;  he 
showed  how  oil  on  water  would  calm  a  rough  sea ; 
suggested  the  discovery  of  the  North  Pole,  and  a 
northwest  passage  to  Asia.  He  tested  the  pain- 
killing  effects  of  ether ;  he  improved  lamps  and 
street-lighting,  and  showed  how  heat  could  be  stored 
and  put  to  practical  use.  He  developed  salt  mines, 
invented  sidewalks  and  street-crossings  for  Phila- 
delphia, and  showed  how  the  streets  of  a  city  could 
be  swept  and  kept  clean. 

He  founded  the  first  philosophical  society  in 
America,  laid  the  foundation  of  our  present  post- 
office  department,  founded  the  first  improvement 
club  in  America,  the  first  free  school  outside  of 
New  England,  the  first  public  library,  the  first  fire 
company,  the  first  organized  police  force,  the  first 
periodical  magazine,  and  the  first  Pennsylvania 
volunteer  militia. 

He  first  told  the  world  about  the  living  poison  in 
the  air  —  what  we  call  microbes  or  germs.  He  in- 
troduced the  idea  of  humanity  in  war,  and  the 
decent  treatment  of  prisoners.  He  protected  the 
Indians,  founded  the  first  anti-slavery  society,  and 
introduced  into  America  from  Europe  seeds,  vines, 
and  vegetables  never  before  grown  in  this  land. 

I  am  not  sure  that  I  have  given  you  a  complete 
list ;  but  a  few  forgotten  things  will  scarcely  count 
in  so  long  and  remarkable  a  catalogue  of  the  efforts 
of  one  man  toward  the  bettering  of  his  race.  Do 


30  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

you  wonder  that  I  have  called  him  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable men  that  has  ever  lived  in  all  the  world  ? 
Even  his  enemies  praised  him,  and  he  outlived  all 
his  foes.  Real  enemies  indeed  Franklin  could  not 
have.  They  simply  could  not  remain  enemies  to 
such  a  man.  "  I  have,"  he  said,  "  some  enemies  in 
England ;  but  they  are  my  enemies  as  an  American. 
I  have  also  two  or  three  in  America  who  are  my 
enemies  as  a  minister ;  but  I  thank  God  there  are 
not  in  the  whole  world  any  who  are  my  enemies  as 
a  man.  For,  by  His  grace,  through  a  long  life,  I 
have  been  enabled  so  to  conduct  myself  that  there 
does  not  exist  a  human  being  who  can  justly  say, 
'  Ben  Franklin  has  wronged  me.'  ' 

That  was  a  grand  record,  was  it  not?  But 
it  was  Franklin's  record  in  all  things.  Lord 
Brougham,  one  of  the  ablest  of  English  statesmen 
and  scholars,  declared  that  Franklin  stood  alone  in 
combining  the  character  of  philosopher  and  politi- 
cian—  "the  greatest,"  he  said,  "that  man  can  sus- 
tain. For,  having  borne  the  first  in  enlarging 
science  by  one  of  the  greatest  discoveries  ever  made, 
he  bore  the  second  part  in  founding  one  of  the 
greatest  empires  in  the  world." 

His  life  is  full  of  charming  stories  which  all 
young  Americans  should  know — how  he  peddled 
ballads  in  Boston,  and  stood,  the  guest  of  kings, 
in  Europe ;  how  he  worked  his  passage  as  a  stow- 
away to  Philadelphia,  and  rode  in  the  queen's  own 
litter  in  France;  how  he  walked  the  streets  of 


BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN.  31 

Philadelphia,  homeless  and  unknown,  with  three 
penny  rolls  for  his  breakfast,  and  dined  at  the  tables 
of  princes,  and  received  his  friends  in  a  palace ; 
how  he  raised  a  kite  from  a  cow-shed,  and  was 
showered  with  all  the  high  degrees  the  colleges  of 
the  world  could  give ;  how  he  was  duped  by  a  false 
friend  as  a  boy,  and  became  the  friend  of  all  hu- 
manity as  a  man  ;  how  he  was  made  Major-General 
Franklin,  only  to  resign  because,  as  he  said,  he  was 
no  soldier,  and  yet  helped  to  organize  the  army 
that  stood  before  the  trained  troops  of  England  and 
Germany.  These  all  are  stories  just  as  wonderful 
in  their  way  as  are  the  marvellous  tales  of  the 
"Arabian  Nights  ;  "  but  most  marvellous  of  all  is 
the  simple  fact  of  this  Boston  boy's  career,  for  it 
can  tell  to  the  boys  and  girls  of  America  the  oft-re- 
peated story  that  in  this  Republic  none  can  ever 
aspire  too  high,  none  need  ever  despair  of  success, 
if  head  and  heart,  brain  and  hand,  be  healthy  and 
well-conditioned. 

This  poor  Boston  boy,  with  scarcely  a  day's 
schooling,  became  master  of  six  languages  and  never 
stopped  studying  ;  this  neglected  apprentice  tamed 
the  lightning,  made  his  name  famous,  received  de- 
grees and  diplomas  from  colleges  in  both  hemi- 
spheres, and  became  forever  remembered  as  "  Doc- 
tor Franklin,"  philosopher,  patriot,  scientist,  phi- 
lanthropist, and  statesman. 

Self-made,  self-taught,  self-reared,  the  candle- 
maker's  son  gave  light  to  all  the  world ;  the  street 


32  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

ballad-seller  set  all  men  singing  of  liberty ;  the  run- 
away apprentice  became  the  most  sought-after  man 
of  two  continents,  and  brought  his  native  land  to 
praise  and  honor  him. 

He  wrought  himself  into  the  history  of  America. 
For,  as  McMaster  says  of  him,  "his  face  is  as  well 
known  as  the  face  of  Washington ;  and,  save  that 
of  Washington,  is  the  only  one  of  his  time  that  is 
now  instantly  recognized  by  the  great  mass  of  his 
countrymen.  .  .  .  Franklin  was  in  truth  the 
greatest  American  then  living ;  nor  would  it  be 
safe  to  say  that  our  country  has,  since  that  day, 
seen  his  like." 

We  give  him  therefore  a  front  place  among  his- 
toric Americans,  because  he  really  was  such  a  great 
one —  great  in  heart  as  well  as  great  in  deeds.  For 
Benjamin  Franklin  was  the  most  evenly  balanced 
man  in  all  America.  Witty,  but  never  malicious  ; 
inflexible,  but  never  obstinate ;  strong-willed,  but 
never  tyrannical ;  the  wisest  man  of  his  day,  but 
never  conceited ;  a  statesman,  but  never  a  mere 
politician ;  an  office-holder  for  over  fifty  years,  but 
never  an  office-seeker,  —  Benjamin  Franklin  had  all 
the  attributes  of  greatness  with  none  of  its  vices, 
all  the  simplicity  of  success  with  none  of  its  selfish- 
ness. With  great  intelligence  and  wonderful 
understanding  he  had  still  greater  common  sense, 
and  while  seeking  few  favors  for  himself,  no  man 
ever  set  on  foot  so  many  works  of  real  and  practi- 
cal benevolence.  He  lived  at  peace  with  the  world, 


BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN.  33 

and  his  one  regret  when  his  long  life  came  to  an 
end  was  that  he  could  not  live  fifty  years  longer  to 
see  the  great  advances  in  science  and  the  world's 
good  which  he  was  sure  would  come  in  the  nine- 
teenth century. 

He  built  America ;  for  what  our  Republic  is  to- 
day is  largely  due  to  the  prudence,  the  forethought, 
the  statesmanship,  the  enterprise,  the  wisdom,  and 
the  ability  of  Benjamin  Franklin.  He  belongs  to  the 
world ;  but  especially  does  he  belong  to  America. 
As  the  nations  honored  him  while  living,  so  the 
Republic  glorifies  him  when  dead,  and  has  en- 
shrined him  in  the  choicest  of  its  niches  —  the  one 
he  regarded  as  the  loftiest :  the  hearts  of  the  com- 
mon people,  from  whom  he  had  sprung  j^and  in  their 
hearts  Franklin  will  live  forever. 


III. 


THE     STORY    OF     JAMES    OTIS,     OF 
BOSTON. 


Born  at  West  Barnstable,  Massachusetts,  February  5,  1725. 
Died  at  Andover,  Massachusetts,  May  23,  1783. 


"  From  men  like  Otis,  Independence  grew; 
From  such  beginnings  empire  rose  to  view." 

Thomas  Dawes. 

IT  was  a^aw  February  day  in  Boston  town,  and 
Mr.  James  Otis,  advocate-general  of  the  Colony 
of  Massachusetts,  buttoned  his  brown  surtout 
closely  about  him,  as  he  passed  out  through  the 
round-topped  doorway  of  his  house  on  Court 
street  and  walked  briskly  on  toward  the  Royal 
Exchange  tavern,  or  Stone's,  —  as  the  tavern  was 
called  "for  short,"-  — on  State  street.  It  was  at 
Stone's  that  the  lawyers  and  politicians  of  old 
Boston  met  to  talk  things  over  before  court  was 
opened  in  the  State  House  across  the  way. 

But  though  the  day  was  raw  the  sturdy  advocate- 
general  did  not  feel  nearly  so  much  the  sharp  sea- 
turn  that  came  in  from  the  bay,  damp  and  pene- 
trating, as  he  did  the  responsibility  that  was  laid 
upon  him  and  the  pinch  of  the  struggle  between 

34 


JAMES    OTIS.  35 

duty  and  inclination.  For  Mr.  Paxton,  collector 
of  customs  for  the  king  in  Boston  town,  had  deter- 
mined to  put  a  stop  to  the  "tax-dodging"  of  those 
merchants  of  Massachusetts  who  denied  the  king's 
right  to  collect  such  duties,  and  who  smuggled  or 
secreted  goods  in  their  own  houses  in  order  to 
avoid  the  dues.  Under  the  laws  made  for  the 
colony,  in  England,  such  places  could  be  searched 
and,  if  resistance  were  made,  the  officers,  under  the 
authority  of  a  paper  called  a  Writ  of  Assistance, 
could  request  or  compel  any  citizen  to  assist  them 
in  their  forcible  search  of  a  private  house. 

This  law  enraged  the  good  people  of  the  Bay 
Colony,  but  Mr.  Paxton,  the  collector,  was  deter- 
mined to  force  his  order  through,  and  he  had  peti- 
tioned the  Supreme  Court,  sitting  in  Boston,  to 
grant  these  writs  of  assistance.  It  was  the  duty  of 
the  advocate-general  to  argue  such  a  case  as  this 
before  the  court  and  secure  the  writ.  So  Mr. 
Paxton  called  upon  Mr.  James  Otis,  as  advocate- 
general,  to  argue  the  case  for  the  crown. 

But  Mr.  James  Otis,  the  advocate-general,  did 
not  wish  to  do  his  official  duty.  He  did  not  believe 
in  the  right  of  king  or  council  to  make  such  a  law. 

"A  man's  house  is  his  castle,"  he  declared,  "and 
while  he  is  quiet  he  is  as  well  guarded  as  a  prince. 
If  these  writs  of  assistance  are  made  legal  no  man 
is  safe  —  the  privilege  of  safety  at  home  is  anni- 
hilated. Officers  may  enter  our  houses  whenever 
they  please  and  we  cannot  resist  them.  It  is 


36  HISTORIC   AMERICANS, 

wrong ;  it  is  totally  wrong.  No  act  of  Parliament 
can  make  such  a  writ  stand.  I  cannot  —  I  will 
not  be  party  to  it.*' 

James  Otis  was  an  impulsive  man,  of  quick  tem- 
per and  of  hasty  speech,  but  he  was  a  lover  of  right 
and  justice  and  liberty.  When  he  made  up  his 
mind,  however,  he  was  quick  to  act,  and  before  the 
short  walk  between  his  house  and  "  Stone's  "  was 
over  he  had  determined  upon  his  course.  He 
would  refuse  to  argue  the  writ. 

"But  as  judge-advocate  you  must  argue  it," 
said  his  friend  Mr.  Thacher,  great  lawyer  and  true 
patriot.  "  Your  argument  is  right.  The  writ  is  not 
legal.  Even  what  is  binding  in  England  cannot  be 
used  against  us  in  America.  But  that  is  not  for  you 
to  say.  As  advocate-general  for  the  crown  you  must 
argue  for  the  benefit  of  the  crown ;  there  is  no  other 
way." 

"  But  there  is  a  way,  Thacher ! "  cried  James 
Otis,  turning  on  his  friend.  "  It  is  the  way  of 
every  honest  man  out  of  a  dishonest  situation. 
Here,  Master  Stone"  he  demanded  in  his  im- 
pulsive way,  and  the  landlord  of  the  "  ordinary  " 
hurried  up  to  answer  Mr.  Otis's  summons  ;  "  some 
paper  and  a  quill,  quickly,  please  I  " 

Then  seated  at  a  table  in  a  quiet  corner,  while 
Mr.  Thacher  stood  beside  him,  James  Otis  dashed 
off  a  few  hasty  lines  and  showed  the  letter  to  his 
friend. 

"  That 's  the  way  I  can  fix  it,"  said  he. 


JAMES    OTIS.  37 

It  was  the  resignation  of  James  Otis  as  advo- 
cate-general of  the  colony.  It  meant  the  loss  of 
much  practice,  for  which  the  crown  paid  good 
fees,  but  in  the  eyes  of  James  Otis  .loss  of  money 
was  not  to  be  compared  with  loss  of  honor. 

No  sooner  was  the  fact  of  this  resignation  known 
than  the  merchants  of  Salem  and  Boston,  the  two 
ports  most  affected  by  this  odious  search  law,  ap- 
plied to  James  Otis  to  take  their  case  and  argue 
against  the  writ. 

It  would  be  before  this  very  court,  in  which,  as 
advocate-general,  it  would  have  been  his  duty  to 
argue  in  behalf  of  the  writ,  and  the  opportunity 
was  one  which  his  impulsive  nature  could  not 
resist. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  it,  gentlemen,"  he  said 
to  those  who  sought  his  aid ;  but  when  they 
offered  liberal  fees  in  payment  of  his  services 
Otis  was  as  quick  tempered  as  he  had  been  with 
his  friend  Thacher. 

"Fees?"  he  cried;  "fees,  do  you  say?  In  such 
a  case,  gentlemen,  I  despise  all  fees,"  and  he  would 
take  none ;  for,  in  this  case,  resistance  to  what  he 
considered  tyranny  was  duty,  and  not  a  matter  of 
business. 

This  feeling  grew  within  him  as  the  time  of  the 
trial  approached,  and  when,  on  a  late  day  in  that 
same  month  of  February,  1761,  he  entered  the  court- 
room in  the  Old  State  House  on  State  street,  where 
the  writ  was  to  be  argued,  he  was  so  inspired  by 


38  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

his  theme  that  he  made  one  of  the  famous  speeches 
of  the  world. 

The  court-room  —  they  still  show  it  to  visitors, 
in  the  east  end  of  the  famous  Old  State  House,  pre- 
served as  a  memorial  of  patriotism  by  Boston  town 
—  was  filled  with  lawyers  and  interested  listeners 
as  Otis  rose  to  speak,  for  the  case  was  one  that 
affected  the  safety  and  manhood  of  every  citizen  of 
the  Bay  State.  Down  upon  this  opponent  of 
kingly  prerogative  looked  the  full-length  portraits 
of  Charles  and  James,  kings  of  England  both,  who 
held  to  that  ridiculous  theory  that  "  the  king 
can  do  no  wrong."  Five  judges  in  scarlet  robes, 
wide  bands,  and  mighty  wigs,  sat  to  hear  the 
case,  and  central  among  them  as  chief-justice  was 
Thomas  Hutchinson,  who  combined  in  his  single 
person  the  lucrative  offices  of  lieutenant-governor 
of  Massachusetts,  chief-justice  of  the  Superior 
Court  of  the  colony,  governor  of  the  castle,  mem- 
ber of  the  council,  and  judge  of  probate.  Mr. 
Thacher,  the  friend  and  associate  of  Otis,  had  just 
completed  an  able,  but  mild  and  moderate  speech 
when  the  "  champion  of  the  people  "  sprang  to  his 
feet. 

Already  he  was  tingling  with  his  theme  ;  at  once 
he  burst  into  an  indignant  protest  against  the  drag 
the  king  would  place  on  liberty. 

''  I  take  this  opportunity  to  declare,"  Otis  burst 
forth,  "that,  to  my  dying  day,  I  will  oppose  with 
all  the  faculties  God  has  given  me,  all  such  instru- 


JAMES    OTIS.  •  39 

ments  of  slavery  on  the  one  hand,  and  villany  on 
the  other,  as  this  writ  of  assistance." 

This  stirred  the  people.  One  young  man,  who 
later  became  a  great  factor  in  America's  indepen- 
dence and  progress,  John  Adams,  of  Quincy,  was  so 
aroused  and  electrified  by  the  words  he  heard  that, 
fifty-seven  years  after,  he  could  repeat  almost  word 
for  word  the  speech  of  Otis  —  a  speech  which  so 
aroused  and  awakened  his  patriotism  that,  as  his 
grandson  declared,  "that  speech  of  Otis  was  to 
Adams  like  the  oath  of  Hamilcar  administered  to 
Hannibal."  It  made  of  the  young  man  an  instant 
patriot. 

"I  was  solicited,"  continued  Otis,  "to  argue 
this  cause  as  advocate-general ;  and  because  I 
would  not  I  have  been  charged  with  desertion  of 
my  office.  To  this  charge  I  can  give  a  very  suffi- 
cient answer :  I  renounced  that  office,  and  I  argue 
this  cause  from  the  same  principle.  .  .  .  It  is 
in  opposition  to  a  kind  of  power  the  exercise  of 
which  in  former  periods  of  English  history  "  (here 
he  glanced  significantly  to  the  two  royal  portraits 
on  the  wall)  "  cost  one  king  of  England  his  head 
and  another  his  throne.  ...  I  cheerfully  sub- 
mit myself  to  every  odious  name  for  conscience' 
sake ;  and  from  my  soul  I  despise  all  those  whose 
guilt,  malice,  or  folly  has  made  them  my  foes.  Let 
the  consequences  be  what  they  will,  I  am  determined 
to  proceed.  The  only  principles  of  public  conduct 
that  are  worthy  of  a  gentleman  or  a  man  are  to 


40  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

sacrifice  estate,  ease,  health,  applause,  and  even 
life,  to  the  sacred  call  of  his  country." 

Then  he  went  deeply  into  the  case  and  for  four 
hours  the  speech  went  on.  Into  it  James  Otis  put 
all  the  strength  of  his  mind,  all  the  force  of  his 
indignation,  all  the  splendor  of  his  eloquence,  all 
the  brilliancy  of  his  magnetic  power. 

Parliament,  he  said,  could  not  legalize  tyranny. 
"  Though  it  should  be  made  in  the  very  words  of 
the  petition,"  he  declared,  "  it  would  be  void,  for 
every  act  against  the  Constitution  is  void." 

"  Every  man,"  he  declared,  "is  individually  inde- 
pendent. His  right  to  his  life,  his  liberty,  and  his 
property  no  created  being  can  rightfully  contest ; 
these  rights  are  inherent  and  inalienable." 

It  was  just  such  language  as  this  that,  years  after, 
opened  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  which 
James  Otis  thus  inspired. 

Individuals,  he  said,  when  associated  together 
as  a  nation  for  mutual  protection  and  defence  did 
not  surrender  their  natural  rights.  "  Our  ancestors, 
as  British  subjects,"  he  said,  "  and  we  their  de- 
scendants, as  British  subjects,  were  entitled  to  all 
those  rights,  and  we  are  not  to  be  cheated  out  of 
them  by  any  phantom  of  virtual  representation  or 
any  other  fiction  of  law  and  politics." 

Then  Otis  explained  what  taxes  were,  when  they 
were  just,  and  laid  down  the  doctrine  that  brought 
on  the  American  Revolution.  "  Taxation  without 
representation  is  tyranny."  Acts  imposing  unjust 


JAMES    OTIS.  41 

or  oppressive  taxation,  he  declared,  were  tyrannical, 
and  never  had  and  never  could  be  executed  in 
America.  "  If  the  king  of  Great  Britain,  in  per- 
son," he  declared,  "  were  encamped  on  Boston  Com- 
mon at  the  head  of  twenty  thousand  men,  with  all 
his  navy  on  our  coast,  he  would  not  be  able  to  ex- 
ecute those  laws.  They  would  be  resisted  or 
eluded." 

He  grew  bolder  and  more  impassioned  as  he  con- 
cluded. He  denounced  the  taxation  and  revenue 
laws  of  England,  "made  by  a  foreign  legislature 
without  our  consent,  by  a  legislature  which  has  no 
feeling  for  us  and  whose  interest  prompts  them  to 
tax  us  to  the  quick."  Then  he  went  on  reproach- 
ing the  British  nation,  Parliament,  and  king  with 
injustice,  illiberality,  ingratitude,  and  oppression  in 
their  conduct  toward  the  people  of  America,  in  a 
style  of  oratory,  so  John  Adams  reported,  "  that  I 
have  never  heard  equalled  in  this  or  any  country." 

The  grounds  that  James  Otis  took  and  the  sen- 
timents he  uttered  in  that  famous  five-hour  speech 
do  not  sound  strange  to  us.  We  have  been  brought 
up  to  believe  in  personal  liberty,  no  taxation  with- 
out' representation,  and  the  security  of  house  and 
home  ;  we  have  no  need  for  such  impassioned  ap- 
peals or  such  attacks  on  royalty.  We  have  no  fear 
of  royalty  to-day,  and  we  have  a  way  of  speaking 
our  minds  if  things  do  not  go  to  suit  us  in  matters 
of  state.  But  in  that  day  it  was  treason  to  criticise ; 
it  was  crime  to  talk  of  liberty ;  and  the  words  of 


42  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

Otis  came  like  a  strong  wind  blowing  down  from 
the  heights  of  freedom. 

"  I  do  say  in  the  most  solemn  manner,"  John 
Adams  declared  fifty  years  later,  "  that  Mr.  Otis's 
oration  against  writs  of  assistance  breathed  into 
this  nation  the  breath  of  life." 

It  set  people  thinking ;  it  gave  them  courage  ;  it 
put  into  expression  that  feeling  that  something  was 
wrong  in  the  acts  of  Great  Britain,  which,  later, 
took  definite  shape  at  Lexington  and  Concord,  and 
burst  into  the  protest  of  freemen  in  the  Declaration 
of  Independence. 

"  This  was  the  opening  scene  of  American  resist- 
ance," John  Adams  wrote  to  a  friend.  "  It  began 
in  New  England  and  made  its  first  battle-ground  in 
a  court-room.  A  lawyer  of  Boston,  with  a  tongue 
of  flame  and  the  inspiration  of  a  seer,  stepped  for- 
ward to  demonstrate  that  all  arbitrary  authority 
was  unconstitutional  and  against  the  law.  Then 
and  there,  in  that  court-room,  the  child  Indepen- 
dence was  born." 

The  judges  were  against  him  and  their  decision 
was  adverse ;  but  the  writs  were  not  issued  pub- 
licly. The  people  were  aroused,  and  the  seeds 
planted  by  the  words  of  Otis  in  time  burst  forth, 
grew,  and  blossomed  into  a  righteous  and  successful 
resistance  to  tyranny.  His  speech  made  patriots, 
and  those  patriots  in  time  made  America  free. 

The  story  of  James  Otis  is  one  of  the  tragedies 
of  the  American  Revolution.  His  was  a  brief  but 


JAMES    OTIS.  43 

brilliant  career,  as  sad  in  its  ending  as  it  was  prom- 
ising at  its  opening.  Born  on  Cape  Cod,  a  student* 
of  law  in  Boston,  with  excellent  connections,  oppor- 
tunities, and  abilities,  he  sacrificed,  as  he  declared 
himself  ready  to  do  in  that  impressive  speech, 
"estate,  ease,  health,  applause,  and  even  life,  to  the 
sacred  call  of  his  country." 

Enlisted  on  the  side  of  the  people  he  devoted 
himself  to  their  cause.  He  neglected  his  private 
practice  to  labor  in  their  behalf.  He  served  them 
in  the  Legislature  of  Massachusetts,  and  wrote  and 
spoke  on  the  rights  of  the  colonies  and  the  evils  of 
taxation  without  representation.  He  proposed  and 
largely  brought  about  the  first  Colonial  Congress,  of 
which  he  was  a  member,  and  when  the  rising  spirit 
of  resistance  alarmed  the  British  government  and 
induced  it  to  send  troops  to  America  and  quarter 
them  upon  the  people  of  Boston,  Otis  protested 
with  all  his  fiery  eloquence.  .  .  . 

When  the  Superior  Court  met  in  the  State  House 
and  found  a  body  of  British  troops  posted  outside 
the  building,  and  even  quartered  within  it,  Otis 
moved  at  once  that  the  court  should  adjourn  to 
Faneuil  hall,  for,  he  declared,  "  it  is  utterly  deroga- 
tory to  this  court  to  attempt  to  administer  justice 
at  the  points  of  bayonets  and  the  mouths  of  can- 
non." He  advocated  the  appointment  of  a  com- 
mittee to  remonstrate  against  the  occupation  of 
the  town  by  an  armed  force,  and  to  demand  of 
the  governor  that  this  force  be  removed  "  by  sea 


44  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

and  land,  out  of  the  port  and  the  gates  of  this 
city." 

The  boldness  of  his  stand  and  the  vigor  of  his 
language  raised  up  many  enemies  for  him  in  Massa- 
chusetts, especially  in  Boston,  where  British  troops 
were  stationed  and  Tories  abounded.  Otis  was 
neither  careful  of  his  words  nor  cautious  in  his 
actions,  and  on  the  evening  of  the  fifth  of  Septem- 
ber in  the  year  1764  he  was  set  upon  by  certain 
Tories  and  British  sympathizers  in  a  Boston  tavern, 
and  so  brutally  beaten  over  the  head  as  to  make  him 
ever  after  an  irresponsible  and  often  crazy  invalid. 
He  was  the  first  eminent  martyr  to  the  cause  of 
American  independence. 

For  nearly  fourteen  years  he  lived  this  almost 
useless  life,  rousing  at  intervals  and  flaming  up 
into  the  most  fervid  patriotism,  only  to  break  down 
at  the  most  important  moment  and  drop  again  into 
semi-insanity. 

At  last,  on  the  twenty-third  of  May,  1T83,  the 
very  year  that  saw  the  triumph  of  his  principles 
and  the  dawn  of  independence  for  America,  he  was 
struck  by  lightning  as  he  stood  in  the  doorway  of 
his  sister's  house  at  Andover,  and  died  at  once,  a 
brilliant  intellect  weakened  by  his  own  careless- 
ness and  the  assault  of  a  brutal  enemy. 

To-day,  historians  in  their  study  of  American 
history  agree  in  proclaiming  James  Otis  as  the 
prophet  and  forerunner  of  American  independence. 
He  vindicated  the  rights  of  Americans  to  represen- 


JAMES    OTIS.  45 

tation,  justice,  and  liberty  ;  he  was  their  open  and 
acknowledged  leader  in  the  dawning  days  of  resist- 
ance to  British  tyranny ;  he  led  the  way  to  organi- 
zation and  action  and  became  at  once  the  oracle 
and  guide  of  the  patriots  of  struggling  America. 
He  was  full  of  faults  and  contrasts  of  character, 
but  to-day  these  all  are  forgotten.  Impetuous  and 
commanding,  sound  and  just  in  his  advice  as  a 
statesman,  self-sacrificing  and  devoted  in  his  stand 
as  a  patriot,  he  won  a  foremost  place  among  those 
historic  Americans  who  bore  the  colonies  upward 
to  protest,  to  revolution,  and  to  victory,  and  by  his 
burning  words,  which  made  him,  as  John  Adams 
declared,  "  a  flame  of  fire,"  he  set  alight  the  spark 
that  burst  at  length  into  the  glorious  beacon-fire 
that  lighted  the  world  forward  on  its  path  of 
liberty,  progress,  and  achievement. 


IV. 

THE  STORY  OF  GEORGE  WASHINGTON, 
OF  MOUNT  VERNON, 

CALLED   THE   "FATHER   OF    HIS   COUNTRY." 


Born  at  Wakefteld,  Virginia,  February  22, 1732. 
Died  at  Mount  Vernon,  Virginia,  December  14,  1799. 


"  No  nobler  figure  ever  stood  in  the  forefront  of  a  nation's 
life."  —  John  Richard  Green. 

ON  a  breezy  hill-slope,  overlooking  a  broad  and 
beautiful  river,  there  stands  to-day,  as  it  has  stood 
for  fully  two  hundred  years,  a  comfortable  stone 
farmhouse,  with  low,  sweeping  roof,  wide  gables, 
and  ample  chimneys.  All  about  it  are  well-kept 
lawns  studded  with  warlike  memorials ;  about  it 
press  close  the  life  and  bustle  of  a  vigorous-  river- 
town;  while  beyond  it,  on  a  sightly  crest,  rises  a 
massive  outlook  —  the  tower  of  Victory. 

The  place  is  Newburgh-on-the-Hudson  ;  the  house 
is  the  old  Dutch  homestead  known  as  the  Has- 
brouck  house,  but  forever  famous  throughout  Amer- 
ica as  Washington's  headquarters. 

Within  this  stone  farmhouse  on  a  pleasant  May 
day  in  the  year  1782,  in  a  long,  low  room  pierced 

46 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON.  47 

with  seven  doors  and  but  one  window,  sat  a  noble- 
looking  man.  Big-framed,  large-featured,  strong 
of  face  and  stout  of  limb,  his  general's  uniform 
of  buff  and  blue  well  displayed  his  commanding 
figure,  while  the  natural  dignity  of  his  bearing 
made  all  about  him  small  by  comparison,  and 
noticeable  only  by  contrast.  That  man  was  Gen- 
eral George  Washington,  commander-in-chief  of 
the  armies  of  the  United  States. 

The  general  sat  at  a  long,  rough  table  upon 
which  had  just  been  served  a  simple  meal  in  keep- 
ing with  the  plainness  of  the  room.  The  single 
dish  of  meat  had  not  yet  been  removed;  the  re- 
mains of  a  great  pie  still  smoked  on  the  platter; 
beside  the  plates  stood  the  half-emptied  glasses 
and  silver  goblets ;  while  the  Spartan  dessert  of 
winter  apples  and  nuts,  supplied  by  the  farmers 
of  the  Hudson  valley,  lay  scatterd  about  the  fru- 
gal mess-table  of  the  commander  of  the  American 
forces. 

The  general  drummed  silently  upon  the  table 
with  his  fork — a  favorite  motion  of  his  —  or  ab- 
stractedly picked  away  at  the  nut  meats,  talking 
meanwhile  with  his  much-loved  comrade-in-arms, 
General  Knox,  who  was  dining  with  him  that  day. 
Farther  down  the  table,  Mrs.  Washington  and 
Mrs.  Knox  discussed  with  Major  Villefranche,  the 
French  engineer,  the  best  plan  for  trimming  and 
decorating  the  great  arbor  under  which  the  general 
and  his  guests  were  to  joyfully  celebrate  the  next 


48  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

week  the  birth  of  that  unfortunate  prince  whose  sad 
fate  is  even  yet  a  mystery,  the  dauphin  of  France, 
son  of  that  King  Louis  XVI.  who,  by  the  influence 
of  Benjamin  Franklin,  had  become  the  ally  and 
friend  of  the  struggling  Republic. 

The  general  was  troubled.  For,  now  that  York- 
town  had  been  won  and  the  Republic  had  tri- 
umphed, the  strain  of  the  actual  strife  was  over  and 
the  soldiers  of  the  new  Union  had  time  to  grumble 
and  leisure  to  complain.  It  is  always  thus  with 
every  victorious  army  in  the  space  between  the 
close  of  fighting  and  the  establishment  of  peace. 

In  this  case  there  were  ample  reasons  for  dis- 
satisfaction and  complaint.  The  freemen  of  the 
United  States  were  jealous  of  a  trained  army, 
fearful  of  its  power,  and  with  the  lessons  of  the 
past  in  mind,  anxious  to  have  it  disbanded  before 
it  might  misuse  its  strength.  Their  representa- 
tives in  Congress  shared  this  anxiety,  and  yet  had 
no  immediate  means  to  pay  the  arrears  due  to  the 
soldiers  for  years  of  faithful  service,  or  even  to 
satisfy  their  immediate  needs. 

Unpaid,  poorly  fed,  and  still  more  poorly  clothed, 
with  their  families  at  home  suffering  for  the  very 
necessities  of  life,  and  longing  for  the  return  of  the 
bread-winners,  both  soldiers  and  officers  chafed 
under  the  delays  and  negligence  of  an  apparently 
unconcerned  Congress  and  clamored  for  relief.  At 
times  this  clamor  broke  out  into  indignant  de- 
mands, even  into  open  revolt,  stilled  or  compro- 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON.  |9 

mised  only  by  the  great  influence  of  Washington, 
who  recognized  the  injustice  of  the  treatment 
accorded  his  veterans,  while  at  the  same  time  he 
appreciated  the  financial  and  political  weakness  of 
Congress  and  the  country. 

He,  too,  was  aware  of  the  possibilities  of  his 
trained  soldiers  for  evil,  if  once  they  asserted  their 
power  and  determined,  as  an  army,  to  take  matters 
into  their  own  hands.  Already  mutterings  of  re- 
volt and  threats  of  extreme  measures  had  reached 
him,  and  he  knew  that,  should  he  but  speak  the 
word,  those  mutterings  and  threats  would  crystallize 
into  instant  action,  and  the  liberty  the  army  had 
fought  for  might  be  turned  into  anarchy  or  military 
despotism.  When  a  man  knows  his  power  and  is 
still  a  patriot,  that  is  a  sign  of  moral  as  well  as  of 
personal  greatness. 

So,  as  he  talked  over  the  situation  with  General 
Knox  and  sought  for  some  method  of  relief  or  of 
compromise,  his  great  heart  was  troubled,  and  he 
drummed  the  table  abstractedly.  Just  then  Billy, 
the  faithful  body-servant,  approached  him. 

"  Letters,  general,"  he  said.  "  Colonel  Tilghman, 
sir,  says  a  courier  from  below  has  just  brought  you 
this,"  and  he  handed  the  general  a  letter,  with  the 
inquiry,  "  Shall  I  take  it  to  your  study  general  ?  " 

"  No,  Billy ;  if  the  ladies  will  pardon  me  I  will 
read  it  here,"  the  courteous  commander  replied ; 
and,  on  the  sign  of  assent,  he  turned  from  the  table 
and  began  to  read  the  letter. 


5U  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

As  he  read,  a  flush  sprang  to  that  pale  face,  and 
the  signs  of  worry  that  sometimes  marked  those 
strong,  calm  features  gave  place  to  astonishment, 
anger,  and  disgust.  He  read  the  letter  through, 
laid  it  down,  reread  it,  and  then  with  a  quick 
motion  handed  it  to  General  Knox. 

"  Read  that,  general,"  he  said,  and  watching  his 
friend's  face  resumed  again  the  fork-drumming  that 
was  the  accompaniment  to  deep  thinking. 

"  Another,  eh  ?  "  said  Knox,  as  the  first  words 
of  the  letter  met  his  eye.  He  looked  at  the  signa- 
ture. "  From  Colonel  Nicola,  at  the  camp.  I  've 
heard  him  talk  before.  Well,  what  does  he  say  ?  " 
And  the  hero  of  Trenton,  Monmouth,  and  York- 
town,  the  great  general's  faithful  comrade  and 
friend,  dashed  through  the  letter  with  characteristic 
speed. 

Even  as  he  read,  the  frown  on  the  face  of  Wash- 
ington deepened  and  then  disappeared  ;  the  flush  of 
anger  reddened  perceptibly,  and  then  faded  from 
cheek  and  brow ;  dignity  and  calm  came  again  to 
a  countenance  not  often  marked  by  the  passionate 
nature  that,  nevertheless,  lay  deep  in  the  heart  of 
this  remarkable  leader  of  men.  Then,  as  the  eyes 
of  Knox  sought  those  of  his  chief  in  faith  and 
inquiry,  Washington  took  the  letter  from  his  hand 
and,  without  a  word,  rising  from  the  table  he 
passed  into  the  room  that  served  him  as  a  study. 

The  ladies  turned  an  inquiring  eye  upon  the 
general  of  artillery. 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON.  51 

"  His  Excellency  laid  no  ban  upon  me,  ladies," 
Knox  said  in  reply  to  those  questioning  glances. 
"  I  think  I  betray  no  confidences  when  I  say  that 
he  has  received  the  most  singular  and  uncalled-for 
letter  I  have  ever  known  to  be  sent  him.  Colonel 
Nicola,  ladies,  despairs  of  the  Republic.  He  urges 
the  general  to  use  the  army  for  the  setting-up  of 
an  energetic  government,  and,  it  would  seem,  in  its 
name,  invites  George  Washington,  of  all  men,  to 
make  himself  king  of  America." 

That,  indeed,  was  in  substance  the  contents  of 
the  letter  brought  by  special  courier  to  Washing- 
ton, as  he  sat  at  dinner  in  the  Hasbrouck  house  at 
Newburgh  on  that  May  day  in  1782.  It  was  the 
opportunity  that  had  come  to  great  leaders  before 
his  day,  that  has  come  to  them  since.  Csesar,  Crom- 
well, Napoleon,  all  were  tempted  with  this  dream 
of  power,  and  each  one  of  them  either  dallied  with 
it,  and  compromised,  or  yielded  to  it,  and  fell. 

But  George  Washington  was  made  of  nobler 
stuff  than  either  of  these  men,  great  and  noble 
though  they  were.  The  dream  of  sovereign  power 
found  no  place  in  his  unselfish  heart.  He  hesi- 
tated not  a  moment.  Indeed,  he  spurned  the  prop- 
osition, so  Professor  Channing  assures  us,  "  in  a 
manner  which  has  separated  him  from  all  other 
successful  leaders  in  civil  strife  since  the.  days  of 
the  Roman  republic."  At  once  he  despatched  his 
answer  to  the  veteran  who  had  sought  to  swerve 
him  from  the  duty  of  patriotism. 


52  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

"  With  a  mixture  of  surprise  and  astonishment," 
he  wrote  Colonel  Nicola,  "  I  have  read  with  atten- 
tion the  sentiments  you  have  submitted  to  my 
perusal.  Be  assured,  sir,  no  occurrence  in  the 
course  of  the  war  has  given  me  more  painful  sensa- 
tions than  your  information  of  there  being  such 
ideas  existing  in  the  army  as  you  have  expressed, 
and  which  I  must  view  with  abhorrence  and  repre- 
hend with  severity.  ...  I  am  much  at  a  loss 
to  conceive  what  part  of  my  conduct  could  have 
given  encouragement  to  such  an  address,  which  to 
me  seems  big  with  the  greatest  mischiefs  that  can 
befall  my  country.  If  I  am  not  deceived  in  the 
knowledge  of  myself  you  could  not  have  found  a 
person  to  whom  your  schemes  are  more  disagree- 
able. .  .  .  Let  me  conjure  you,  if  you  have 
any  regard  for  your  country,  concern  for  yourself 
or  posterity,  or  respect  for  me,  banish  these  thoughts 
from  your  mind,  and  never  communicate,  as  from 
yourself  or  any  one  else,  a  sentiment  of  the  like 
nature." 

That  settled  the  king-making  idea.  Never  again 
did  a  man  dare,  by  such  a  proposition,  to  assail  the 
honor  or  misjudge  the  patriotism  of  George  Wash- 
ington, gentleman. 

To  me,  boys  and  girls,  that  instant  of  surprising 
temptation,  righteous  anger,  and  indignant  reply 
marks  one  of  the  greatest  moments  in  the  life  of 
America's  greatest  man  —  "  the  only  man,  in  fact," 
so  Lord  Brougham,  the  Englishman,  declared, 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON.  53 

"  upon  whom  the  epithet  '  great,'  so  thoughtlessly 
lavished  by  men,  may  be  justly  bestowed." 

The  story  of  the  life  of  George  Washington, 
soldier,  statesman,  and  patriot,  is  known  to  all 
Americans.  But  let  us  briefly  recall  it  here.  It 
can  never  be  told  too  often. 

In  a  plain  little  farmhouse,  set  in  the  midst  of 
broad  acres  bordering  upon  a  beautiful  river,  George 
Washington  was  born  on  the  twenty-second  of 
February,  1732.  To-day  the  place  is  known  as 
Wakefield.  It  is  in  Westmoreland  county,  in  the 
State  of  Virginia,  and  a  trim  white  shaft  now  marks 
the  site  of  the  long-vanished  farmhouse  of  Augus- 
tine Washington,  the  father  of  America's  mightiest 
man. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  surrounding  of  George 
Washington,  or  in  his  upbringing  or  advantages, 
that  could  have  foretold  the  future  greatness  of  the 
small  boy  who  played  upon  the  green  banks  of  the 
Potomac.  But  he  grew  slowly,  through  a  healthy 
and  happy  boyhood,  to  a  helpful  and  noble  man- 
hood. He  was  the  best  kind  of  a  boy :  manly,  if 
sometimes  self-willed ;  generous,  if  sometimes  over- 
masterful.  He  was  fearless,  daring,  good-natured, 
quiet,  and  orderly,  —  a  boy  that  hated  a  lie,  never 
did  a  mean  or  underhanded  action,  and  early 
learned  the  lesson  of  obedience  to  parents,  respect 
toward  older  people,  and  kindness  to  all. 

He  was  a  strong  and  active  boy.  In  all  the 
section  in  which  he  lived  there  was  no  better  run- 


54  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

ner  or  rider,  wrestler  or  athlete.  He  loved  the 
sea,  but  gave  up  his  wish  to  become  a  sailor  be- 
cause his  mother  needed  him  at  home.  He  became 
a  surveyor,  tramped  over  the  broken  and  forest- 
fringed  lands  of  Virginia,  until  he  was  as  much 
at  home  in  the  wood  as  a  trapper,  and  knew  and 
loved  that  free,  health-giving  forest  life.  Even  at 
sixteen  he  was  a  sinewy,  athletic,  handsome  young 
fellow,  almost  'six  feet  tall,  well-shaped  though  a 
trifle  lean,  long-armed,  energetic,  strong,  and  mus- 
cular. He  had  light-brown  hair,  grayish-blue  eyes, 
a  firm  mouth,  a  frank  and  manly  face,  and  he  had 
a  way  about  him  that  attracted  people  to  him  and 
made  them  like  him,  even  though  he  was  quiet, 
undemonstrative,  and  retiring,  while  there  was  in 
his  face  a  look  that  compelled  people  to  obey  him 
whenever  he  was  in  a  position  to  direct,  counsel, 
or  command. 

Such  a  position  came  to  him  even  while  he  was 
a  young  man.  He  was  brought  into  active  service 
as  one  of  the  promising  young  fellows  of  the  Colony 
of  Virginia,  simply  because  he  was  to  be  relied 
upon,  and  knew  just  what  to  do  in  times  of  trial 
or  danger.  The  young  surveyor  became  a  soldier 
and  led  an  expedition  against  the  French  trespassers 
on  English  territory  when  he  was  but  twenty-one 
years  old.  He  displayed  an  ability  in  leadership 
that  set  people  to  talking  about  him  even  then, 
and  when,  by  his  bravery  and  coolness  alone  he 
saved  from  utter  massacre  that  disgraceful  defeat 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON.  55 

of  Braddock  which  Benjamin  Franklin,  as  I  have 
told  you,  tried  to  prevent,  people  talked  about 
young  George  Washington  all  the  more,  and  began 
to  look  to  this  strong,  quiet  man  for  advice  and 
guidance. 

When  at  last  trouble  actually  did  come  between 
the  thirteen  American  colonies  and  their  mother 
country,  England,  and  war  at  last  began,  the  Ameri- 
can people  needed  a  leader  to  command  their  armies 
and  fight  their  battles.  At  once  this  strpng-souled, 
persistent,  manly  Virginia  colonel  was  selected. 
He  left  his  beloved  home  at  Mount  Vernon  beside 
the  broad  Potomac,  answering  the  call  of  Con- 
gress, and  thus  at  forty-four  George  Washington 
became  the  general-in-chief  of  the  undisciplined 
but  patriotic  American  army. 

You  know  the  story  of  his  military  career.  For 
seven  years  he  was  alike  leader  and  mainstay  of 
the  Americans  through  the  long  and  bitter  war  for 
independence  known  as  the  American  Revolution. 
Slowly  but  surely  he  developed  into  a  great  gen- 
eral. Others  might  doubt  the  issue,  but  his  faith 
grew  ever  firmer;  others  might  despair,  but  he 
clearly  saw  the  end;  when  others  wavered  he  stood 
unmoved,  serene,  and  confident. 

He  made  an  army  out  of  a  mob;  he  wrested 
victory  from  defeat  and  made  even  his  disasters 
incentives  to  fresh  effort.  He  was  never  cast  down 
by  failure,  never  dismayed  by  treachery,  never 
headstrong  in  the  hour  of  triumph.  He  planned 


56  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

perfectly.  His  retreats  were  victories,  his  surprises 
were  successes,  even  his  defeats  were  steps  toward 
mastery.  Jealousies  did  not  move  him,  conspira- 
cies did  not  weaken  him,  treason  did  not  unman 
him.  Alike  through  defeats  and  successes  he  kept 
steadily  on  along  the  path  of  duty,  striking  telling 
blows  where  they  were  most  needed  and  when  they 
were  least  expected,  until  by  his  patience,  his  per- 
severance, his  confidence,  and  his  ability,  he  carried 
the  struggling  people  who  trusted  him  and  the 
army  who  followed  him  implicitly  on  from  the 
masterly  siege  of  Boston  to  the  final  victory  at 
Yorktown,  and  was  hailed  as  deliverer  and  con- 
queror, the  patriot  of  patriots,  and  the  Father  of 
his  Country. 

When  the  new  nation  was  at  last  firmly  estab- 
lished, and  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States 
which  he  had  helped  to  frame  became  the  law  of 
the  land,  George  Washington,  by  the  voice  of  the 
whole  people,  was  chosen  to  direct  the  affairs  of 
the  Republic.  He  was  twice  elected  president  of 
the  United  States,  and  through  eight  trying  and 
burdensome  years  he  served  his  country  as  its  chief 
executive  with  the  same  unselfishness,  the  same 
pure  patriotism,  the  same  high  sense  of  duty,  the 
same  wisdom  and  ability,  that  had  made  him  the 
successful  leader  in  the  war  for  independence,  and 
went  into  history  as  America's  greatest  soldier 
and  mightiest  man  in  the  early  days  of  the  Repub- 
lic. 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON.  57 

Then,  his  duty  done,  his  labor  over,  his  great 
life-work  completed,  he  became  once  again  a  farmer 
and  country  gentleman  at  his  dear  Mount  Vernon 
home,  and  there,  on  the  fourteenth  of  December, 
in  the  year  1799,  he  died  at  sixty-seven,  beloved 
by  America  and  honored  by  all  the  world. 

"  The  purest  figure  in  history,"  Mr.  Gladstone, 
the  Englishman,  has  called  him ;  and  while  all 
nations  are  divided  in  opinion  as  to  their  greatest 
men,  all  the  world  unites  in  elevating  George 
Washington  to  the  undisputed  place  which  one 
thoughtful  studerrt  of  mankind  has  given  him  — 
"  the  greatest  man  of  our  own  or  any  age."  Let 
all  the  young  people  of  America  who  may  question 
the  enthusiastc  verdict  of  Washington's  own  coun- 
trymen as  "  a  bit  biased  "  read  the  glowing  lines  of 
Byron,  the  poet  of  England's  supremacy,  in  which 
he  described  for  Englishmen  the  great  American : 

"  Where  may  the  wearied  eye  repose 

When  gazing  on  the  Great, 
Where  neither  guilty  glory  glows 

Nor  despicable  state  ? 
Yes,  one  —  the  first,  the  last,  the  best  — 

The  Cincinnatus  of  the  West, 
Whom  envy  dared  not  hate  — 

Bequeath  the  name  of  Washington, 

To  make  men  blush  there  was  but  one !  " 

t 

Truth  is  not  always  the  real  truth  when  told  by 
flaw-hunters.  The  "  true  George  Washington  "  is 
something  nobler  than  latter-day  critics  can  draw 


58  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

for  us,  and  as  you  seek  to  sum  up  the  life  of  the 
most  historic  of  Americans  you  can  set  down  this 
of  George  Washington:  He  had  his  failings,  as 
all  men  have ;  but  no  man  in  all  the  world  had  so 
few,  or  was  so  completely  the  conqueror  of  himself. 
As  a  boy  he  was  honest,  upright,  truthful,  obedient, 
and  brave,  the  leader  of  his  playmates,  a  boy  whom 
all  his  comrades  admired,  looked  up  to,  and  followed. 
As  a  young  man  he  was  reliable,  adventurous, 
courageous,  manly,  pure,  and  strong,  never  a  grum- 
bler, a  shirker,  or  a  boaster,  never  a  bully,  a  time- 
server,  or  a  self-seeker.  As  a  man  he  was  what  we 
call  a  leader  of  men ;  he  was  clear-headed,  clean- 
hearted,  seeing  what  was  to  be  done  and  doing  it, 
or  setting  others  to  do  it  when  he  had  shown  the 
way,  never  trying  to  get  the  best  of  others,  never 
jealous  himself  or  disturbed  by  the  jealousies  of 
smaller  men,  however  hard  they  tried  to  upset  his 
carefully  laid  plans  or  assail  his  reputation ;  he 
was  a  planner  of  great  things  and  a  doer  of  them 
as  well  —  just  the  man  for  just  the  work  demanded 
in  well  laying  the  foundations  of  a  great  nation. 

A  lover  of  children,  a  lover  of  his  country,  a 
lover  of  liberty,  of  order,  and  of  law,  a  patriot  in 
the  highest  sense  of  the  word,  —  such  was  George 
Washington.  The  fanner  boy  of  the  Potomac  be- 
came the  noblest  of  rulers.  In  truthfulness,  in 
integrity,  in  endurance,  in  wisdom,  in  justice,  in 
devotion  to  duty  and  loyalty  to  purpose,  he  stands 
supreme,  at  once  the  model  to  those  in  authority, 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON.  59 

an  ideal  and  example  for  us  all.  "  First  in  war, 
first  in  peace,  first  in  the  hearts  of  his  country- 
men," he  will  ever  stand  a  noble  and  enduring 
memory,  and  the  boys  and  girls  of  America  can 
never  go  far  wrong  or  be  untrue  to  the  Republic  so 
long  as  they  read  and  reread  and  take  to  heart  in 
all  honor,  reverence,  and  love  the  glorious  story  of 
George  Washington,  of  Mount  Vernou. 


V. 


THE     STORY     OF   SAMUEL     ADAMS,    OF 
BOSTON, 

CALLED    "THE   FATHER    OF    THE    REVOLUTION." 


Born  at  Boston,  Massachusetts,  September  27,  1722. 
Died  at  Boston,  Massachusetts,  October  2,  1805. 


u  A  man  whom  Plutarch,  if  he  had  only  lived  late  enough, 
would  have  delighted  to  include  in  his  gallery  of  worthies,  —  a 
man  who,  in  the  history  of  the  American  Revolution,  is  second 
only  to  Washington  —  Samuel  Adams."  —  John  Fiske. 

THE  fugitives  paused  on  the  crest  of  a  ridge  just 
beyond  Granny's  hill,  and  looked  back  toward  the 
town.  In  the  east  the  day  was  just  breaking,  for 
the  dawn  comes  early  about  Lexington  in  April ; 
through  the  scant  spring  foliage  they  could  catch 
glimpses  of  the  vanishing  forms  of  Sergeant  Munroe 
and  his  guard  of  eight  minute-men,  from  Captain 
Parker's  Lexington  company,  for  this  escort  had  left 
the  fugitives  on  the  Woburn  road,  and  had  at  once 
hurried  back  to  join  their  comrades  on  the  Common. 

Only  a  little  while  the  watchers  waited  ;  then 
there  came  to  their  ears  from  the  village  green  the 
indistinguishable  command  which  all  the  world  has 

60 


SAMUEL    ADAMS.  61 

heard  now,  better  than  did  those  listening  fugitives 
on  the  distant  hill :  "  Disperse,  ye  rebels  !  ye  cow- 
ards, lay  down  your  arms  and  disperse !  "  Then 
followed  other  indistinguishable  shouts,  the  fatal 
pistol  shot,  never  yet  explained,  the  rattle  of  arms, 
and  the  historic,  unanswered  volley  that  made  up 
the  battle  of  Lexington.  And  as  these  sounds 
climaxed  in  the  volley  of  British  guns  one  of  the 
fugitives  on  the  hill  turned  on  the  other  and  made 
what  is  set  down  as  "  one  of  the  few  exultant  out- 
bursts of  his  life." 

"  What  a  glorious  morning  is  this  for  America  !  " 
he  exclaimed ;  for  he  knew  that  the  result  he  had 
long  foreseen  had  come  at  last,  and  in  what  he  con- 
sidered the  right  way.  The  British  soldiers  had 
fired  first ;  the  blame  and  the  responsibility  were 
theirs  ;  conciliation  was  impossible  ;  the  conflict 
had  begun.  England  was  in  the  wrong. 

For  a  brief  space  they  stood,  listening  intently ; 
then,  not  knowing  what  orders  concerning  them 
the  vindictive  Gage  had  given  his  redcoats,  the 
two  fugitives  hurried  on  to  Burlington,  and  thence 
to  Billerica,  where  they  made  a  substantial  dinner 
off  cold  salt  pork  and  boiled  potatoes,  served  in  a 
wooden  tray.  Then  they  were  up  and  off  again. 
And  so  at  last  they  made  their  risky  way  to  Phila- 
delphia and  the  Continental  Congress. 

For  those  two  fugitives  on  the  Lexington  hill 
on  that  nineteenth  day  of  April,  in  the  year  1775, 
were  two  historic  Americans  —  Samuel  Adams,  the 


62  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

patriot,  and  John  Hancock,  whose  bold  signature  we 
know  so  well  as  it  heads  the  signers  of  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence.  And  it  was  Samuel  Adams 
who  made  the  enthusiastic  remark,  as  upon  his  ears 
fell  the  crack  of  the  British  guns  at  Lexington. 

He  had  long  been  preparing  for  that  important 
event.  Away  back  in  his  college  days  he  had  felt 
it  coming.  For  at  Harvard  he  had  made  resistance 
to  tyrants  the  theme  of  his  Commencement  oration : 
"  Is  it  lawful  to  resist  the  supreme  magistrate  if 
the  Commonwealth  cannot  otherwise  be  protected  ?  " 
And  the  young  A.M.  distinctly  announced  that  it 
was  not  only  lawful  but  imperative.  From  that 
day  forward  the  right  of  Americans  to  resistance 
and  to  liberty  had  been  his  chief  thought,  even 
when  others  repudiated  the  idea  of  independence, 
and  reiterated  their  loyalty  to  the  king. 

But  Samuel  Adams  educated  the  people  to  re- 
sistance. To  the  neglect  of  his  business  and  his 
personal  comfort  and  desires  he  took  up  the  grand 
idea  of  personal  liberty  and  direct  representation, 
and  drew  his  fellow-countrymen  away  from  old  to 
new  truths. 

Samuel  Adams  was  Boston  born  and  bred. 
Reared  in  his  father's  fine  old  house  on 'Purchase 
street  in  that  sturdy,  democratic  old  town,  he  was 
instructed  in  its  schools,  developed  amid  its  in- 
fluences, and  early  called  to  share  in  its  affairs,  as 
a  sober-minded,  well-balanced,  public-spirited  young 
man. 


SAMUEL    ADAMS.  63 

He  was  an  associate  of  James  Otis  in  all  plans 
that  touched  the  public  welfare,  distancing  even 
that  ardent  and  impulsive  patriot  in  his  opposition 
to  British  measures  and  methods.  He  made  the 
life  of  the  royal  governor  Bernard  a  burden  and 
finally  forced  him  from  his  post ;  he  waged  a  never- 
ending  feud  with  Hutchinson,  chief-justice  and  later 
governor ;  he  fought  with  vigor  the  kingly  attempts 
to  fasten  a  state  church  upon  Puritan  New  Eng- 
land ;  he  succeeded  to  the  leadership  of  the  patriot 
party  when  Otis  had  been  beaten  into  insanity ;  he 
denounced  unsparingly  and  unceasingly  the  quar- 
tering of  British  troops  in  Boston,  and,  after  the 
Boston  massacre,  actually  succeeded  in  having  the 
obnoxious  regiments  removed  from  the  rebellious 
town;  he  led  and  strengthened  public  opinion 
through  the  colony  by  his  advice  to  the  towns  and 
his  practical  use  of  the  great  power  of  the  town- 
meetings  —  those  assemblies  in  which  New  Eng- 
land people  freely  spoke  their  minds ;  he  organized 
the  opposition  of  the  people  against  the  hated 
Stamp  Act  and  advised  the  action  that  led  to  the 
famous  "  Boston  tea  party ; "  by  letters  and  speeches, 
by  conferences  and  counsel,  he  drew  his  countrymen 
into  a  union  for  mutual  protection  against  the  en- 
croachments of  the  British  crown  ;  he  helped  form 
the  Committees  of  Correspondence  by  which  the 
different  colonies  came  into  touch  and  accord  with 
each  other  on  the  subject  of  concerted  action;  he 
advocated  the  Congress  of  the  Colonies  which  James 


64  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

Otis  had  first  proposed,  and  he  labored  to  bring  it 
about ;  he  went  as  a  delegate  to  the  first  Continen- 
tal Congress  at  Philadelphia,  and  there  took  a 
stand  as  the  uncompromising  opponent  of  all 
concessions  to  the  British  crown  and  as  the  open 
advocate  of  independence ;  he  recommended  and 
took  part  in  the  Provincial  Congress  of  Massa- 
chusetts at  Concord,  and  when,  in  the  Continen- 
tal Congress,  'fears  were  expressed  lest  the  bold 
stand  of  the  colonies  should  lead  to  an  open 
rupture  with  England,  it  was  Samuel  Adams  who 
bravely  declared,  "I  should  advise  persisting  in 
our  struggle  for  liberty  though  it  were  revealed 
from  heaven  that  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
were  to  perish  and  only  one  of  a  thousand  to 
survive  and  retain  his  liberty.  One  such  free- 
man," he  said,  "  must  possess  more  virtue  and 
enjoy  more  happiness  than  a  thousand  slaves  ;  let 
him  propagate  his  like  and  transmit  to  them  what 
he  has  so  nobly  preserved/' 

So  bold  and  outspoken  an  enemy  to  kingly  au- 
thority could  not  but  be  a  marked  man,  and  it  is  no 
wonder  that  the  British  government  wished  to 
silence  him,  or  that  Gage,  the  British  commander 
in  Boston,  sought  to  arrest  and  imprison  Samuel 
Adams  as  a  rebel  to  the  king.  That  watchful 
patriot  was  wary,  however,  and  the  general  was  slow 
to  act.  But  when  Adams  saw  that  more  soldiers 
were  coming  from  England  he  warned  the  people  to 
be  ready  for  them  and  to  oppose,  if  need  be,  an  ex- 


SAMUEL    ADAMS.  65 

pedition  of  troops  out  of  Boston  to  search  for  con- 
cealed arms  or  warlike  supplies. 

It  was  this  warning  that  led  to  the  active  prep- 
arations of  the  New  England  militia,  and  especially 
of  the  minute-men  of  Massachusetts  ;  it  was  this, 
therefore,  that  induced  the  rallying  of  the  minute- 
men  when  Paul  Revere  and  his  compatriot,  William 
Dawes,  galloped  out  from  Boston  to  warn  the 
country  towns  of  the  coming  of  the  regulars  ;  and  it 
was  because  of  this  that  we  may  claim  for  Samuel 
Adams  the  credit  and  responsibility  for  the  now 
immortal  battle  of  Lexington. 

When  that  clash  came  Samuel  Adams  saw  that 
his  determined  and  persistent  efforts  had  at  last 
borne  fruit ;  he  felt  that  resistance  to  tyranny  had 
indeed  taken  form,  and  that  the  spirit  of  the  people 
was  aroused  for  a  stand  for  right,  for  justice,  and 
for  liberty.  Do  you  wonder,  then,  that,  as  he  and 
John  Hancock,  arch-rebels  both,  and  fugitives  from 
British  oppression  and  persecution,  stood  on  Granny 
hill  in  Lexington,  on  the  nineteenth  of  April,  1775, 
and  heard  from  the  Common  the  sounds  of  resist- 
ance and  conflict,  he  should  have  exclaimed  thank- 
fully and  with  an  enthusiasm  not  often  displayed 
by  one  so  sober  and  self-contained,  "  What  a  glorious 
morning  is  this  for  America  "  ?  In  that  open  act 
of  popular  resistance  Samuel  Adams,  patriot  and 
lover  of  liberty,  recognized  the  dawning  of  a  new 
clay  for  America  —  the  sunrise^  of  independence. 

When  the  tidings  of  that  bloody  day  at  Lexington 


66  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

and  Concord  and  the  tidings  of  the  twenty-mile 
harrying  of  the  redcoats  by  the  aroused  farmers 
of  Middlesex  were  speeding  through  the  colonies, 
arousing  them  to  action,  Samuel  Adams  was  posting 
south  to  Philadelphia  to  join  his  associates  in  the 
second  Continental  Congress.  That  Congress  was 
still  slow  to  act,  and  while  they  hesitated  and  tem- 
porized, considering  new  and  useless  appeals  to  king 
and  Parliament,  Samuel  Adams  stood  almost  alone 
as  the  champion  of  absolute  independence.  Gradu- 
ally, however,  men  came  to  his  opinion ;  one  after 
another  they  joined  him  in  his  firm  and  uncom- 
promising stand,  and  at  last  on  the  fourth  of  July, 
1776,  Samuel  Adams  saw  the  fulfilment  of  his 
hopes  and  the  fruitage  of  his  high  desires  in  the 
passage  and  signing  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. For  Samuel  Adams,"  so  one  writer 
declares,  "  that  was  the  most  triumphant  moment 
of  his  life." 

Even  his  enemies  admitted  his  great  power  in 
this  leadership  of  the  forces  of  revolt.  One  of 
them  said  of  him  at  that  time :  "  Samuel  Adams  is 
the  Cromwell  of  New  England ;  to  his  intriguing 
arts  the  Declaration  of  Independence  is  in  great 
measure  to  be  attributed ; "  and  Governor  Hutch- 
inson,  then  a  fugitive  in  London,  assured  King 
George  that  Samuel  Adams  was  the  arch-rebel  of 
the  colonies,  for  the  reason  that  "  he  was  the  first 
that  publicly  asserted  the  independency  of  the 
colonies  upon  the  kingdom." 


SAMUEL    ADAMS,  67 

As  for  Samuel  Adams's  fellow-countrymen,  we 
are  told  how  they  regarded  him  in  those  years  of 
his  crowning  triumph.  John  Adams,  of  Massachu- 
setts, his  kinsman  and  associate  in  Congress,  de- 
clared that  "  Sam  Adams  was  born  and  tempered 
a  wedge  of  steel  to  split  the  knot  of  lignum  vitce 
that  tied  America  to  England."  Josiah  Quincy, 
an  ardent  patriot,  seeking  health  in  England,  wrote : 
44 1  find  many  here  who  consider  Samuel  Adams 
the  first  politician  in  the  world.  I  have  found 
more  reason  every  day  to  convince  me  that  he  has 
been  right  when  others  supposed  him  wrong ;  "  and 
Thomas  Jefferson  said,  "  If  there  was  any  Palinu- 
rus  "  —  that  is,  pilot  —  "  to  the  Revolution,  Samuel 
Adams  was  the  man.  Indeed,  in  the  Eastern 
States,  for  a  year  or  two  after  it  began,  he  was, 
truly,  the  '  Man  of  the  Revolution ; '  and  of  his 
influence  in  the  Continental  Congress  Jefferson 
said,  "  Samuel  Adams  was  so  rigorously  logical,  so 
clear  in  his  views,  abundant  in  good  sense  and 
master  always  of  his  subject,  that  he  commanded 
the  most  profound  attention  whenever  he  rose  in 
an  assembly  by  which  the  froth  of  declamation  was 
heard  with  the  most  sovereign  contempt." 

How  far  he  was  the  "  Man  of  the  Revolution " 
in  New  England,  as  Jefferson  declared,  you  have 
seen  in  the  brief  summary  of  his  fearless  actions 
in  behalf  of  independence,  and  his  education  of  the 
people  of  the  Massachusetts  towns  in  lessons  of 
liberty.  But  with  the  signing  of  the  Declaration 


68  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

of  Independence  his  great  life-work  practically 
came  to  an  end.  "  Had  he  died  then,"  one  of  his 
biographers  admits,  "  his  fame  would  have  been  as 
great  as  it  is  now.  What  further  he  accomplished, 
though  often  of  value,  an  ordinary  man  might 
have  performed."  He  seems  to  have  been  raised 
up  to  show  the  people  the  only  clear  path  to  inde- 
pendence ;  after  that  the  leadership  was  taken  by 
others. 

Historians  tell  us  that  Samuel  Adams  was  what 
they  term  "  the  architect  of  ruin  "  —  that  is,  he 
carefully  and  persistently  planned  the  overthrow  of 
kingly  authority  in  America  ;  that  was  his  mission ; 
he  was  fitted  neither  to  plan  nor  organize  the  suc- 
cessful Republic.  You  can  see  from  the  glimpses 
I  have  given  you  of  the  man  and  his  career  that 
his  work  was  destructive  rather  than  preservative. 
He  was,  as  you  have  seen,  a  rebel  against  the  Brit- 
ish throne  from  boyhood,  and  this  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  both  he  and  his  father  were,  at  one  time  in 
their  lives,  tax-collectors  for  the  crown.  You  have 
seen  that  almost  his  first  notable  oration  at  college 
was  a  plea  for  resistance  to  tyranny,  and  that  his 
entrance  into  public  life  was  as  the  declared  oppo- 
nent of  the  kingly  prerogative.  He  was  the  leader 
and  chosen  representative  of  the  restless  and  aggres- 
sive people  —  the  "tribune  of  the  yeomanry,"  as 
some  one  called  him.  He  advocated  and  organized 
rebellion;  he  urged  on  the  farmers  of  Middlesex 
to  stand  their  ground  at  Lexington  and  Concord ; 


SAMUEL    ADAMS.  69 

and  when  they  had  "  fired  the  shot  heard  round  the 
world,"  as  Emerson  puts  it,  none  was  more  jubi- 
lant, none  more  enthusiastic,  than  Samuel  Adams. 

This  was  all  destructive  work,  you  see,  —  the  over- 
throw of  constituted  authority  in  America.  When  it 
cam6  to  upbuilding,  the  new  nation  looked  to  other 
hands  than  those  of  Samuel  Adams.  Throughout  the 
Revolution  he  served  in  the  Congress,  but  his  posi- 
tion was  rather  that  of  a  critic  than  a  leader.  And 
when  the  government  began  to  take  definite  shape, 
and  the  plan  of  departments  that  was  finally  adopted 
as  most  practical  was  proposed,  Samuel  Adams 
strongly  opposed  it.  He  objected  to  the  establish- 
ment of  a  State  Department,  of  a  War  Department, 
and  of  a  Treasury  Department  —  the  leading  execu- 
tive branches  of  our  government  and  the  chief 
presidential  helpers.  Instead,  he  advocated  the  out- 
grown  and  cumbersome  conduct  of  those  important 
departments  by  committees  of  Congress,  as  had  been 
the  method  during  the  Revolution.  It  would  have 
been  a  great  mistake  had  his  plan  been  carried 
out ;  but  even  in  this  opposition  he  was  the  same 
Samuel  Adams  —  fearful  of  the  concentration  of 
authority  in  the  president,  fearful  lest  that  office 
become  a  "  one  man  power  "  or  tyranny,  and  desir- 
ous of  having  all  government  and  all  direction  come 
from  the  people,  through  committees  selected  from 
them  —  the  people  whose  servant  and  leader,  whose 
advocate  and  mouthpiece,  he  had  been  so  long. 

He  disliked  to  exchange  the  old  Articles  of  Con- 


70  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

federation  of  1781  which  he  had  helped  draw  up 
for  the  Constitution  of  1789,  under  which  we  live 
to-day.  The  Constitution  would  centralize  things, 
he  feared;  the  independence  of  the  separate  and 
sovereign  States  would  be  given  up ;  and  so,  not 
liking  the  new  order  of  things,  he  went  home  to 
Massachusetts. 

There  he  worked  in  his  beloved  town-meetings  — 
the  people's  tribunals — to  help  the  Common- 
wealth of  Massachusetts  prepare  and  adopt  a  State 
Constitution ;  there  he  served  the  Commonwealth 
as  lieutenant-governor  and  governor;  and- there  he 
outlived  the  century  which  he  had  helped  to  make 
both  notable  and  historic,  dying  at  last  on  the 
second  of  October  in  the  year  1803,  in  his  house  on 
Winter  street  in  his  beloved  home-town  of  Boston, 
—  so  beloved  by  him  and  so  much  a  part  of  his  very 
existence  that  one  of  his  associates  and  fellow- 
workers  declared,  in  just  a  bit  of  good-natured  com- 
plaining, "  Samuel  Adams  would  have  the  State  of 
Massachusetts  govern  the  Union,  the  town  of  Bos- 
ton govern  Massachusetts,  and  Samuel  Adams 'gov- 
ern the  town  of  Boston.  Then,  he  believes,  the 
whole  would  not  be  ill-governed."  Samuel  Adams, 
you  see,  was  a  patriot  for  his  own  times  and  genera- 
tion. The  Samuel  Adams  of  the  America  of  1775 
would  be  out  of  place,  lost,  and  confounded  in  the 
America  of  1900. 

How  much  his  State  and  town  revered  the  stout 
old  patriot  let  me  show  you. 


SAMUEL    ADAMS.  71 

There  had  been  an  election  in  Massachusetts  — 
the  hotly  contested  State  election  of  1800.  The 
political  opponent  of  the  old  ex-governor  had  been 
elected,  and  he  himself  was  rather  despairing  of  the 
Republic.  Inauguration  day  came,  and,  up  Winter 
street  in  Boston  to\Vn,  marched  the  great  procession 
escorting  the  governor  to  the  State  House  on  the 
hill.  There  were  bands  of  music,  flags  and  banners, 
parading  troops  and  political  clubs,  all  jubilant  over 
their  victory  and  filling  the  narrow  Boston  street 
with  noise  and  show  and  color. 

As  they  passed  the  modest  house  on  the  corner 
of  what  is  to-day  Winter  street  and  Winter  place 
and  where,  in  recent  years,  a  tablet  has  been  erected 
in  honor  of  "  the  Father  of  the  Revolution  "  who 
once  lived  on  that  corner,  the  old  patriot,  then  nearly 
eighty  years  old,  was  observed  by  the  new  governor 
watching  the  parade  from  his  window. 

"  Halt !  "  commanded  the  governor-elect,  and  pro- 
cession and  music  alike  came  to  a  stop.  Then 
stepping  from  his  carriage,  while  the  troops  pre- 
sented arms  and  the  people  waited  uncovered,  the 
new  governor  —  political  rival  and  opponent  though 
he  was — stood  with  bared  head  and  extended 
hands  before  the  door  of  Samuel  Adams,  and,  in  a 
few  brief  but  tender  words,  did  graceful  honor  to 
his  political  opponent  —  the  patriot  and  leader  of 
the  people,  whose  efforts  had  freed  the  colonies  and 
given  liberty  and  independence  to  the  land. 

For  the  times  comes  the  man.     Revolution  was 


72  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

inevitable,  and  God  raised  up  Samuel  Adams  to  be 
its  organizer  and  earliest  leader.  Beneath  the 
bronze  statue  of  this  historic  American  where  it 
stands  amid  the  rush  and  bustle  of  what  is  now 
called  Adams  square  in  the  city  of  Boston  you 
may  read  this  estimate  of  the  man  :  "  A  statesman 
incorruptible  and  fearless."  And  that  is  strictly 
true.  As  rugged  and  immovable  as  the  great 
bowlder  that,  as  the  century  closes,  has  been  placed 
above  his  resting-place  in  the  Old  Granary  bury- 
ing-ground,  in  Boston  town,  Samuel  Adams  was  at 
once  grand  and  noble,  —  a  fearless,  sincere,  unyield- 
ing, and  incorruptible  patriot,  —  a  true  American. 

And  free  America  owes  much  to  Samuel  Adams. 
He  proposed  the  Revolution ;  he  advocated  the 
Continental  Congress ;  he  signed  the  Declaration 
of  Independence ;  and  was  so  sharp  a  thorn  in  the 
side  of  the  British  Government  and  of  the  British 
generals  that  they  tried  first  to  bribe  and  then  to 
kill  him.  But  they  could  neither  bribe  nor  kill 
him.  He  lived  to  see  the  redcoats  of  King  George 
driven  from  Boston  and,  in  time,  from  America ; 
he  lived  to  hail  the  final  triumph  of  the  principles 
for  which  he  labored  and  suffered,  and  to  see  the 
people  whose  welfare  he  held  above  all  selfish  con- 
siderations of  gain  or  position  free  and  indepen- 
dent Americans,  beginners  and  designers  of  a  nation 
whose  greatness  even  he  could  not  comprehend  or 
prophesy. 


VI. 


THE    STORY   OF    PATRICK    HENRY,   OF 
VIRGINIA. 


Born  at  Studley,  Virginia,  May  29, 1738. 
Died  at  Red  Hill,  Virginia,  June  6,  1799. 


"Patrick  Henry  disdained  submission;  by  him  Virginia  rang 
the  alarm  bell  for  the  continent."  —  George  Bancroft. 

"  A  KING,  by  annulling  or  disallowing  acts  of  so 
salutary  a  measure,  from  being  the  father  of  his 
people  degenerates  into  a  tyrant,  and  forfeits  all 
right  to  his  subjects'  obedience." 

The  young  lawyer  paused  for  an  instant ;  but  in 
that  instant  men  had  sprung  to  their  feet.  "  Trea- 
son !  Treason !  "  came  the  cry  from  different  parts  of 
the  crowded  court-room,  and  Mr.  Lyons,  the  oppos- 
ing counsel,  appealed  hotly  to  the  bench  where  sat 
the  young  lawyer's  own  father  as  presiding  justice. 
"  Treason  ;  the  gentleman  has  spoken  treason,"  he 
cried.  "  Will  your  worships  listen  to  that  without 
showing  your  disapproval  ?  " 

Their  worships  said  nothing.  Instead,  they  sat 
mute  and  spellbound  under  the  surprising  flow  of 
eloquence  from  the  lips  of  one  whom  they  had  con- 
sidered neither  orator,  pleader,  nor  lawyer,  but  who 

73 


74 

now,  at  one  bound  and  by  a  sudden  burst  of 
eloquence,  sprang  into  popularity,  fame,  and  leader- 
ship. 

The  place  was  the  stuffy  little  court-house  in  the 
county-seat  of  Hanover,  in  the  Colony  of  Virginia ; 
the  time  was  the  first  day  of  December,  1763 ;  the 
man  was  Patrick  Henry. 

He  was  arguing  on  the  wrong  side  of  an  impor- 
tant case,  in  which  both  law  and  precedent  were 
absolutely  against  him.  It  was  a  case  of  taxes,  in 
which  the  council  of  the  king  of  England  had 
deliberately  and  contemptuously  set  aside  a  law 
made  by  the  colony.  In  this  case  the  king's  council 
was  right  as  to  judgment,  but  wrong  as  to  action. 
The  law  it  "  disallowed  "  was  an  unjust  one  ;  but 
the  high-handed  manner  in  which  king  and  council 
overruled  and  annulled  it  was  not  to  be  borne  by 
the  liberty  and  justice  loving  colonists  who  had 
enacted  it. 

That  was  the  way  in  which  the  matter  appeared 
to  Patrick  Henry,  when,  as  a  forlorn  hope,  he  took 
up  a  case  which  other  lawyers  would  not  touch. 
"  The  king  of  England  has  no  right  to  meddle  in 
the  law-making  of  this  colony.  Virginia  can  look 
out  for  herself,"  he  said,  and  in  this  spirit  he  de- 
fended a  losing  case  and  by  his  eloquence,  earnest- 
ness, and  argument  overruled  the  judgment  of  the 
court,  turned  a  defeat  into  victory,  and  won  the 
case  he  had  championed  for  his  clients  — •  the 
people. 


PATRICK    HENRY.  75 

This  celebrated  case  —  known  in  American 
history  as  "  the  Parson's  Cause  "  —  made  the  name 
and  established  the  fame  of  Patrick  Henry  as  a 
resistless  pleader  and  an  impassioned  orator.  Up 
to  that  date  he  had  not  been  a  success.  The  son  of 
a  Virginia  gentleman  of  small  means,  young  Patrick 
Henry  was  left  to  himself  for  amusement  and 
education,  obtaining  a  good  deal  more  of  the  first 
than  of  the  second.  He  was  a  careless,  happy-go- 
lucky  country  boy  of  the  pleasant  region  of  middle 
Virginia,  loving  hunting  and  fishing  more  than 
study  and  loafing  more  than  books,  never  suc- 
ceeding at  anything,  and  sticking  to  nothing  long. 
He  failed  as  a  farmer,  failed  in  business,  married 
a  tavern-keeper's  daughter  when  he  had  nothing 
on  which  to  support  her,  and,  failing  at  every- 
thing else,  hastily  concluded  to  try  the  law.  He 
failed  even  in  his  examinations  for  that,  and  was 
only  admitted  to  the  bar  through  the  good-nature 
of  one  of  the  examining  lawyers  and  because  of 
his  own  success  at  arguing  the  other  out  of  a 
careless  indifference.  Such  a  man  does  not  seem 
fitted  to  champion  a  great  cause  or  teach  new 
ideas  to  an  energetic  people.  But  something 
above  the  opportunity  that  lay  beneath  the  Par- 
son's Cause  inspired  and  held  young  Henry;  it 
gave  him  an  earnestness  that  surprised  and  an 
eloquence  that  electrified  his  hearers  ;  and  those 
who  hung  their  heads  for  shame  when  Patrick 
Henry  began  to  speak,  lifted  him  from  the  floor  as 


76  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

he  proceeded,  and  bore  him  out  on  their  shoulders 
when  he  had  concluded. 

From  that  day  success  and  fame  were  his.  He 
sprang  into  instant  popularity  as  "the  people's 
champion."  Practice  as  a  lawyer  flowed  in  upon 
him  ;  he  gained  advancement  in  his  own  colony  and 
power  as  a  politician.  He  turned  over  a  new  leaf. 
He  was  no  longer  shiftless  or  unsteady.  Popularity 
brought  him  business,  and  business  brought  him 
money ;  as  a  result  he  became  an  influential  coun- 
try gentleman  with  an  estate  of  his  own,  with  ad- 
mirers and  supporters  throughout  Virginia,  and 
with  the  ability  to  gratify  his  leanings  towards 
political  preferment  that  speedily  gave  him  posi- 
tion and  importance.  He  was  elected  a  member 
of  the  Virginia  House  of  Burgesses,  or  Legislature ; 
he  became  a  political  leader  in  Virginia,  was  sent 
as  a  delegate  to  the  first  and  second  Continental 
Congresses,  was  the  first  commander  of  Virginia's 
Revolutionary  army,  and  was  three  times  gov- 
ernor of  Virginia.  His  fame  spread  throughout 
the  land,  and  any  office  in  the  gift  of  the  new  na- 
tion might  have  been  his  had  he  cared  to  accept  it. 
But  he  wished  for  no  office.  He  declined  to  serve  as 
member  of  the  Constitutional  Convention,  as  United 
States  senator,  as  secretary  of  state,  as  governor 
of  Virginia  for  the  fourth  time,  as  chief-justice  of 
the  United  States,  as  ambassador  to  France,  and  as 
vice-president  of  the  United  States.  He  declined, 
you  see,  even  more  than  he  accepted  office. 


PATRICK    HENRY.  11 

You  know  what  gave  him  his  greatest  fame  and 
led  the  people  of  the  United  States  to  know,  to 
honor  ,  and  to  respect  him.  It  was  his  famous  ora- 
tion in  old  St.  John's  Church  in  Richmond,  an  ora- 
tion that  has  not  yet  ceased  ringing  in  the  ears  of 
Americans,  and  which,  in  certain  of  its  impetuous 
utterances,  has  become  a  part  of  the  proverbs  and 
maxims  of  the  Republic.  Let  me  try  to  draw  for 
you  the  picture  of  that  remarkable  speech  in  which 
he  urged  the  arming  of  the  Virginia  militia  in 
resistance  to  the  British  authorities ;  for,  as  Profes- 
sor Tyler  says,  "  it  is  chiefly  the  tradition  of  that 
one  speech  which  to-day  keeps  alive,  in  millions  of 
American  homes,  the  name  of  Patrick  Henry,  and 
which  lifts  him,  in  the  popular  faith,  almost  to  the 
rank  of  some  mythical  hero  of  romance." 

It  is  a  plain  and  unpretending  little  church  to- 
day as  it  stands  almost  on  the  summit  of  one  of 
beautiful  Richmond's  sightly  hills,  —  Church  hill,  it 
is  called,  — at  the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Twenty- 
fourth  street.  Small  as  it  is,  the  church  is  to-day 
much  larger  than  it  was  on  that  day  in  1775  — 
Thursday,  the  twenty-third  of  March — when,  ris- 
ing to  his  feet,  in  the  pew  still  shown  to  visitors 
and  marked  by  a  memorial  tablet,  Patrick  Henry- 
threw  down  the  gauntlet  to  King  George  and 
declared  war  on  the  haughty  prerogative  of  Great 
Britain. 

The  second  Revolutionary  convention  of  Virginia 
was  assembled  in  that  old  church  on  the  hill  in 


78  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

Richmond.  The  first  convention  had  met  at 
Williamsburg  the  year  before  and  had  sent  to  the 
Continental  Congress  such  representative  Vir- 
ginians as  George  Washington,  Richard  Henry 
Lee,  Benjamin  Harrison,  and  Patrick  Henry, 
with  others  of  equal  ability,  if  of  less  prominence. 
There  Patrick  Henry,  as  pronounced  an  advocate  of 
open  resistance  and  organized  protest  as  Samuel 
Adams,  of  Massachusetts,  had  advocated  a  union  of 
all  the  colonies  for  mutual  protection  and  defence 
against  the  aggressions  of  England,  with  equal 
representation  and  equal  interests  for  all,  saying 
grandly,  as  he  pled  for  unity,  "  The  distinctions 
between  Virginians,  Pennsylvanians,  New  Yorkers, 
and  New  Englanders  are  no  more.  I  am  not  a 
Virginian,  but  an  American  !  " 

And  now  the  second  -Revolutionary  congress  of 
Virginia  had  met  to  debate  upon  the  question 
whether  Virginia  should  declare  for  peace  or  war. 
Everywhere,  throughout  the  colonies,  the  people 
were  restless ;  everywhere  there  was  talk  of  resist- 
ance, and  from  Massachusetts  bay  to  Charleston 
harbor  the  local  military  companies  were  being 
organized  for  possible  emergencies,  and  drilled 
to  the  use  of  arms.  But  prudence  was  keeping 
men  back  from  act  or  speech  that  might  be  deemed 
aggressive ;  prudence  was  still  holding  men  loyal 
to  the  king. 

So,  when  the  question  of  arming  the  militia  of 
Virginia  came  up  in  the  colonial  convention,  and 


PATRICK   HENRY.  79 

Patrick  Henry  introduced  a  resolution  "  that  this 
colony  be  immediately  put  into  a  posture  of  de- 
fence and  a  committee  be  appointed  to  prepare  a 
plan  for  embodying,  arming,  and  disciplining  such 
a  number  of  men  as  may  be  sufficient  for  that  pur- 
pose," prudence  interfered  to  prevent  so  menacing 
a  move. 

"  The  resolution  is  premature,"  objected  some  of 
the  more  conservative  members.  "  War  with  Great 
Britain  may  come,"  they  said ;  "  but  it  may  be  pre- 
vented." 

"  May  come  ?  "  exclaimed  Patrick  Henry ;  "  may 
come?  It  has  come!"  And  then,  rising  in  his 
place,  in  that  narrow  pew  in  old  St.  John's,  he 
broke  out  into  that  famous  speech  which  now,  as 
Professor  Tyler  remarks,  "  fills  so  great  a  space  in 
the  traditions  of  Revolutionary  eloquence." 

Tall  and  thin  in  figure,  with  stooping  shoulders 
and  sallow  face,  carelessly  dressed  in  his  suit  of 
"  parson's  gray,"  Patrick  Henry  faced  the  president 
of  the  convention,  who  sat  in  the  chancel  of  the 
church,  and  began  calmly,  courteously,  and  with 
dignity. 

"  No  man,  Mr.  President,"  he  said,  "  thinks  more 
highly  than  I  do  of  the  patriotism  as  well  as  the 
abilities  of  the  very  honorable  gentlemen  who  have 
just  addressed  the  house.  But  different  men  often 
see  the  same  subject  in  different  lights  ;  and,  there- 
fore, I  hope  it  will  not  be  thought  disrespectful  to 
those  gentlemen  if,  entertaining  as  I  do  opinions  of 


80  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

a  character  very  opposite  to  theirs,  I  should  speak 
forth  my  sentiments  freely  and  without  reserve." 

Then  he  flung  aside  courtesy  and  calmness. 

"  This  is  no  time  for  ceremony,"  he  told  them 
hotly.  "  The  question  before  the  house  is  one  of 
awful  moment  to  the  country.  For  my  own  part, 
I  consider  it  as  nothing  less  than  a  question  of 
freedom  or  slavery.  .  .  . 

"  Should  I  keep  back  my  opinions  at  such  a  time, 
through  fear  of  giving  offence,  I  should  consider 
myself,"  he  declared  impressively,  "  as  guilty  of 
treason  toward  my  country,  and  of  an  act  of  disloy- 
alty to  the  majesty  of  Heaven,  which  I  revere  above 
all  earthly  kings." 

Then  he  begun  his  argument  with  that  sentence 
which  is  still  as  a  household  word  in  the  mouths  of 
men  :  "  Mr.  President,  it  is  natural  for  man  to  in- 
dulge in  the  illusions  of  hope  ;  "  and,  showing  how 
under  existing  circumstances  hope  was  but  a  false 
beacon,  and  experience  was  the  only  safe  guide,  he 
called  attention  to  the  armament  of  England,  and 
demanded :  "  I  ask  gentlemen,  sir,  what  means  this 
martial  array,  if  its  purpose  be  not  to  force  us  to 
submission  ?  " 

Impressively  he  showed  them  that  England's 
display  of  might  was  meant  for  America,  "  sent  over 
to  bind  and  rivet  upon  us  those  chains  which  the 
British  ministry  have  been  so  long  forging." 

He  demanded  how  his  associates  intended  to 
oppose  this  British  tyranny.  Argument  had  failed, 


PATRICK    HENRY.  81 

entreaty  and  supplication  were  of  no  avail,  com- 
promise was  exhausted ;  petitions  and  remon- 
strances, supplications  and  prostrations,  were  alike 
disregarded  —  "  we  have  been  spurned  with  con- 
tempt from  the  foot  of  the  throne,"  he  said. 

"  There  is  no  longer,"  he  declared,  "  any  room 
for  hope.  If  we  wish  to  be  free,  ...  if  we 
wish  not  basely  to  abandon  the  noble  struggle  in 
which  we  have  been  so  long  engaged," —  he  paused, 
and  then,  as  one  of  his  hearers  said,  "  with  all  the 
calm  dignity  of  Cato  addressing  the  senate  ;  like 
a"  voice  from  heaven  uttering  the  doom  of  fate," 
he  added  solemnly  but  decisively,  —  "  we  must 
fight !  I  repeat  it,  sir,  we  must  fight !  An  appeal 
to  arms  and  to  the  God  of  hosts  is  all  that  is  left 
to  us." 

Then,  his  calmness  all  gone,  his  voice  deepening 
and  his  slender  form  swayed  with  the  passion  of 
his  own  determination,  he  flung  himself  into  that 
fervent  appeal  for  union  in  resistance  that  we  all 
know  so  well : 

"  Besides,  sir,  we  shall  not  fight  our  battles  alone. 
There  is  a  just  God  who  presides  over  the  destinies 
of  nations,  who  will  raise  up  friends  to  fight  our 
battles  for  us.  The  battle,  sir,  is  not  to  the  strong 
alone ;  it  is  to  the  vigilant,  the  active,  the  brave. 
.  .  It  is  now  too  late  to  retire  from  the  con- 
test. There  is  no  retreat  now  but  in  submission 
and  slavery.  Our  chains  are  forged.  Their  clank- 
ing may  be  heard  on  the  plains  of  Boston.  The 


82  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

war  is  inevitable  ;  and  let  it  come.  I  repeat  it,  sir, 
—  let  it  come  !  " 

Can  you  not  almost  hear  that  wonderful  voice  as 
it  makes  that  terrible  invitation  with  all  the  force 
of  confident  faith  and  repressed  enthusiasm  ?  Can 
you  not  almost  see  that  swaying  form,  those  forci- 
ble gestures,  that  face  stern  with  purpose?  Old 
men  there  were,  years  after  its  utterance,  who  could 
not  forget  that  tremendous  speech  nor  how,  with 
their  eyes  riveted  on  the  speaker,  they  sat,  as  one 
of  them  expressed  it,  "  sick  with  excitement." 

And  then  came  that  ending  —  one  of  those  im- 
mortal bursts  of  eloquence,  a  fitting  climax  to 
what  had  gone  before : 

"  It  is  vain,  sir,  to  extenuate  the  matter.  Gen- 
tlemen may  cry,  Peace,  peace,  but  there  is  no  peace ! 
The  war  is  actually  begun.  The  next  gale  that 
sweeps  from  the  north  will  bring  to  our  ears  the 
clash  of  resounding  arms.  Our  brethren  are 
already  in  the  field.  Why  stand  we  here  idle? 
What  is  it  that  gentlemen  wish?  What  would 
they  have?  Is  life  so  dear,  or  peace  so  sweet, 
as  to  be  purchased  at  the  price  of  chains  and  sla- 
very? Forbid  it,  Almighty  God!  I  know  not 
what  course  others  may  take,  but  as  for  me  give 
me  liberty  or  give  me  death ! " 

That  wonderful  speech  has  lived  in  men's  mem- 
ories and  hearts  for  far  over  a  hundred  years.  For 
other  hundreds  it  will  live  as  one  of  the  trumpet 
calls  leading  men  to  fight  for  freedom  or  to  die  free 


'BUT   AS   FOR    ME,    GIVE    ME    LIBERTY    OR    GIVE    ME    DEATH. 


PATRICK    HENRY.  83 

men.  To  stand  in  that  very  pew  in  old  St.  John's, 
as  I  have  done,  and  to  recall  that  notable  speech, 
thrills  and  inspires  any  true  American.  That 
speech  has  made  Patrick  Henry  live  forever  as 
America's  impassioned  orator ;  but  better  still,  it 
turned  Virginia,  as  in  a  flash,  for  independence,  and 
made  her  stand  side  by  side  with  Massachusetts, 
leaders  and  coworkers  in  the  fight  for  liberty. 

How  ready  Patrick  Henry  was  to  live  up  to 
his  grand  principles  of  liberty  or  death  we  may 
discover  in  his  story.  From  the  convention  he  went 
speedily  to  the  field.  He  was  made  commander-in- 
chief  of  Virginia's  Revolutionary  army,  as  George 
Washington  was  of  the  Continental  forces,  and 
almost  the  first  overt  act  of  the  war  in  Virginia, 
so  Thomas  Jefferson  declared,  was  committed  by 
Patrick  Henry.  With  five  thousand  hurriedly  gath- 
ered minute-men  he  marched  upon  the  king's 
governor,  Lord  Dunmore,  at  Williamsburg  and 
demanded  the  stolen  powder  of  the  province  or  re- 
paration for  its  loss  ;  and  the  king's  governor  wisely 
judged  discretion  to  be  the  better  part  of  valor  and 
sent  his  receiver-general  with  three  hundred  and 
thirty  pounds  to  pay  for  the  stolen  powder.  Then 
he  issued  a  proclamation  declaring  "  a  certain 
Patrick  Henry  "  an  outlaw  and  rebel ;  but  the  people 
of  Virginia  hailed  the  "  outlaw  "  as  their  leader,  and" 
heaped  him  with  honors,  in  the  way  of  thanks  and 
addresses. 

There   are   many  points  of  resemblance  in  the 


84  HISTORIC   AMERICANS.    ' 

careers  of  Samuel  Adams  and  Patrick  Henry. 
Both  were  "architects  of  ruin,"  opponents  of  pre- 
rogative, foes  to  kingly  authority.  Both  led  the 
attack  of  the  people  upon  British  tyranny  and  by 
their  matchless  labors,  with  voice  or  pen,  organized 
revolt,  set  on  foot  revolution,  and  showed  the  way 
to  liberty  and  independence.  Then,  their  higher 
mission  accomplished,  their  work  fell  into  other 
hands,  and  they,  who  had  been  leaders,  became  on- 
lookers and  critics.  Each  one  was  governor  of 
his  native  State,  and  each  felt  alike  the  sun  of 
popularity  and  the  gloom  of  misrepresentation  and 
defeat.  Both  enjoyed  a  well-merited  old  age,  though 
Adams  outlived  his  colleague  alike  in  years  and 
honors. 

I  have  told  you  that  Patrick  Henry  declined 
more  honors  than  he  accepted.  One  reason  was, 
not  that  he  could  not  march  with  the  Republic, 
but  because  of  continued  ill-health,  which  so  often 
dulls  the  edge  of  energy,  makes  a  man  critical,  and 
keeps  him  dissatisfied.  Alike  the  friend  and  critic 
of  Washington,  Patrick  Henry  was  also  friend  and 
critic  of  the  Republic  he  had  helped  to  found,  lov- 
ing it  for  its  liberty,  but  despairing,  sometimes,  of 
its  future  because  things  were  not  done  as  he  would 
like  to  see  them. 

He  retired  from  public  life  largely  because  of 
criticism;  for,  you  see,  there  was  a  great  deal  of 
criticism  in  the  air  in  those  early  days  of  the  Re- 
public, and  criticism  of  his  acts  was  one  thing  that 


PATRICK    HENRY.  85 

Patrick  Henry  could  not  stand.  Impetuous  as 
James  Otis,  determined  as  Samuel  Adams,  like  both 
those  fervent  patriots  Patrick  Henry  chafed  under 
restraint  and  hated  to  have  his  motives  called  in 
question.  There  are,  after  all,  very  few  such  su- 
perbly patient,  gloriously  self-governed  men  as 
George  Washington  and  Abraham  Lincoln. 

But  impetuosity  is  sometimes  inspiration.  This, 
at  least,  was  one  cause  of  Patrick  Henry's  elo- 
quence. As  an  orator  he  had  remarkable  powers  ; 
but  as  a  leader  he  was  often  uncertain  and  some- 
times headstrong,  to  his  own  detriment  and  his 
country's  peril. 

But  after  all,  it  is  as  one  who  moves  by  the  magic 
of  his  words  that  Patrick  Henry's  claims  to  re- 
membrance as  an  historic  American  chiefly  rest. 
Above  everything  else  he  was  an  orator ;  and  it  is 
as  the  orator  of  resistance,  of  liberty,  and  of  patriot- 
ism that  he  has  our  loving  and  grateful  reverence 
and  will  be  remembered  by  America  forever  and 
ever. 

His  later  years  were  spent  in  peaceful  pursuits 
upon  his  beautiful  farm  at  Red  hill  near  historic 
Appomattox ;  and  there  he  died  on  the  sixth  of 
June,  1799,  surrounded  by  loving  friends  and 
mourned  by  America  as  its  chief  and  most  effective 
orator  in  the  stormy  days  of  protest  and  revolu- 
tion. 


VII. 

THE  STORY  OF  JOHN  ADAMS,  OF 
BRAINTREE, 

CALLED  "THE  COLOSSUS  OF  INDEPENDENCE.' 


Born  at  Braintree,  Massachusetts,  October  30, 1735. 
Died  at  Quincy,  Massachusetts,  July  4,  1826. 


"There  is  not  upon  the  earth  a  more  perfectly  honest  man 
then  John  Adams.  Concealment  is  no  part  of  his  character. 
.  .  .  I  know  him  well,  and  I  repeat  that  a  man  more  per- 
fectly honest  never  issued  from  the  hands  of  his  Creator.  — 
Thomas  Jefferson. 

THERE  was  worry,  uncertainty,  and  anxiety  in 
the  second  Continental  Congress.  In  the  east 
room  of  the  ever-famous  and  ever-precious  Inde- 
pendence hall  in  Philadelphia  the  members  sat  or 
walked  and  talked,  disconcerted  and  perplexed. 
They  had  organized  revolution ;  they  had  plunged 
into  war;  and  now  they  needed  a  leader  for  the 
soldiers  they  had  summoned  to  fight  the  battle 
against  British  oppression,  invasion,  and  assault. 
Collisions  were  frequent;  forces  were  divided; 
the  army  lacked  unity  and  leadership,  and  where 
could  be  found  the  right  man  for  the  important 
post  of  commander-in-chief  ? 

86 


JOHN   ADAMS.  87 

Boston  was  beseiged  by  a  patriot  army.  In 
New  York  the  Tories  "  durst  not  show  their  heads." 
In  Philadelphia  two  thousand  men  were  under 
arms.  In  Virginia  the  militia  was  ready  and  wait- 
ing. Something  must  be  done  speedily,  but  it  must 
be  done  well,  for  success  in  the  field  and  a  system- 
atic conduct  of  the  war  depended  upon  the  man  to 
whom  should  be  given  the  charge  and  oversight  of 
this  enthusiastic  spirit  of  war. 

The  Congress  was  divided.  Leaders  of  ability 
there  were,  each  with  his  following  and  supporters, 
but  none  had  the  unanimous  approval-of  the  mem- 
bers, who  must  decide  as  to  selection  and  authori- 
zation. Jealousies  and  divisions  were  already  appar- 
ent and  threatening,  as  each  section  advocated  the 
claims  of  its  favorite  for  the  chosen  head  of  thfc 
army ;  something,  it  was  seen,  must  be  done  speed- 
ily if  the  army  of  the  Congress  was  to  take  the 
initiative  and  fight  the  power  of  Great  Britain  on 
the  offensive  rather  than  the  defensive  ground. 

Then  it  was  that  a  Massachusetts  man  rose  to 
the  situation.  He  had  his  personal  likes  and  dis- 
likes, for  he  was  a  man  of  strong  feelings  and  pro- 
nounced ideas.  But  he  sunk  all  these  for  what  he 
esteemed  the  public  good.  If  a  New  England  army 
led  by  a  New  England  general  fought  the  fight  it 
would  be,  he  said,  a  New  England  rather  than  an 
American  quarrel,  and,  above  all  things  else,  John 
Adams,  of  Massachusetts,  wished  to  nationalize  and 
not  localize  the  American  Revolution. 


88  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

He  made  up  his  mind  speedily.  On  a  certain 
June  morning,  in  1775,  on  his  way  to  the  session 
of  the  Congress  in  Independence  hall,  he  caught 
his  cousin  and  colleague,  Samuel  Adams,  by  the 
arm,  and  said  emphatically : 

"We  must  act  on  this  matter  at  once.  We  must 
make  the  Congress  declare  for  or  against  something. 
I  '11  tell  you  what  I  am  going  to  do.  I  am  deterr 
mined  this  very  morning  to  make  a  direct  motion 
that  Congress  shall  adopt  the  army  before  Boston, 
and  appoint  the  Virginian,  Colonel  Washington, 
commander  of  it.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

But  Samuel  Adams  would  say  nothing.  He  was 
not  yet  ready  to  give  the  prize  to  a  Southern  rather 
than  a  Northern  soldier,  and  although  he  esteemed 
Colonel  Washington  he  would  not  agree  to  waive 
his  preferences  for  Heath  or  Ward  or  Hancock. 

So  John  Adams  acted  upon  his  own  responsi- 
bility. As  soon  as  that  day's  session  of  the  Con- 
gress had  opened  he  took  the  floor  and  intro- 
duced a  motion  of  precisely  the  nature  confided  to 
his  cousin,  Samuel  Adams.  Of  course,  it  would 
not  be  like  John  Adams  not  to  explain  his  motives, 
so  he  made  a  little  speech,  in  which  he  reminded 
Congress  of  the  perilous  situation  of  the  colonies, 
their  need  of  united  and  systematic  military  protec- 
tion, the  uncaptained  condition  of  the  army  at 
Cambridge,  the  perfection  and  discipline  of  the 
British  soldiers  whom  the  Americans  must  face  in 
fight,  and  the  absolute  necessity,  if  victory  were  to 


JOHN   ADAMS.  89 

be  achieved,  of  bringing  this  army  under  the 
authority  of  Congress,  and  the  appointment  of  a 
commander  subject  to  Congress  and  trained  to  ser- 
vice. 

"  Such  a  gentleman  I  have  in  mind,"  said  honest 
John  Adams,  drawing  nearer  to  the  plan  he  had 
at  heart ;  and,  at-  the  words,  those  members  of 
Congress  who  had  favorite  generals,  or  those  who 
themselves  desired  the  position  of  commander-in- 
chief,  became  deeply  interested,  or  tried  to  look 
unconscious.  Those  members  from  New  England 
who  wished  General  Heath  or  General  Ward  se- 
lected, those  others  who  had  already  decided  that 
the  Irish  adventurer  Lee  was  the  only  fit  man  for 
the  post,  prepared  to  advance  the  claims  of  their 
favorite,  while  ambitious  and  aristocratic  John 
Hancock,  the  president  of  the  Congress,  was  confi- 
dent that  he  was  the  man  in  Mr.  Adams's  mind, 
and  looked  correspondingly  pleased  and  prepared. 

But  the  next  words  of  John  Adams  dispelled  all 
these  dreams  of  leadership : 

"  I  mention  no  names,  but  every  gentleman  here 
knows  him  as  at  once  a  brave  soldier  and  a  man  of 
affairs.  He  is  a  gentleman  from  Virginia,  one  of 
this  body,  and  well  known  to  all  of  us.  He  is  a 
gentleman  of  skill  and  experience  as  an  officer; 
his  independent  fortune,  great  talents,  and  excel- 
lent universal  character  would  command  the  ap- 
probation of  all  the  colonies  better  than  any  other 
person  in  the  Union." 


90  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

At  these  significant  words  Mr.  John  Hancock's 
face  dropped  suddenly.  He  thought  that,  of 
course,  his  friend  and  colleague,  Mr.  Adams,  had 
meant  him.  The  other  advocates  of  special  fa- 
vorites were  disgusted  and  disappointed  ;  for  every 
member  of  the  Congress  knew  who  the  gentleman 
from  Virginia  was  ;  but  the  majority  welcomed 
the  suggestion  as  settling  a  hard  question,  and 
they  were  quite  ready  to  support  Mr.  Adams's 
motion. 

But  as  all  eyes  in  the  room  turned  in  one  direc- 
tion, as  they  recognized  Mr.  Adams's  description, 
a  modest,  sturdy-looking  gentleman,  in  a  colonel's 
uniform  of  buff  and  blue,  flushed  uncomfortably 
with  surprise,  hurriedly  rose  from  his  seat  among 
the  delegates  from  Virginia,  and  slipped  from  the 
room,  seeking  refuge  in  the  library. 

It  was  Colonel  George  Washington,  of  Virginia. 
But  that  motion  of  John  Adams's  saved  the  country ; 
for,  two  days  after,  on  the  fifteenth  of  June,  1775, 
after  the  question  had  been  quietly  discussed,  the 
disappointed  ones  won  over  and  the  timid  ones 
brought  around,  Mr.  Johnson,  the  delegate  from 
Maryland,  made  a  formal  motion,  based  on  John 
Adams's  suggestion,  and  George  Washington  was 
unanimously  elected,  by  ballot,  commander-in- 
chief  of  the  Continental  army,  so  called  to  dis- 
tinguish it  from  the  British  force  then  besieged  in 
Boston,  and  usually  styled  the  Ministerial  army. 

John  Adams  lived  long  enough  to  see  what  a 


JOHN   ADAMS.  91 

wise  and  patriotic  thing  he  had  done  when,  setting 
aside  all  local  prejudices  and  colonial  selfishness, 
he  had  named  the  Virginian  colonel  for  com- 
mander-in-chief.  For  that  action  brought  into 
service  and  developed  into  greatness  America's 
choicest,  noblest,  and  most  efficient  man.  He 
lived  to  see  George  Washington  the  saviour  of  his 
country,  the  victor  over  its  foes,  and  its  first  pres- 
ident; while  he,  John  Adams,  of  Massachusetts, 
was  associated  with  him  as  the  first  vice-president 
of  the  Republic,  and  became  his  immediate  succes- 
sor in  office,  as  the  second  president  of  the  United 
States. 

The  story  of  this  famous  son  of  Massachusetts  is 
one  of  constant  action,  progress,  appreciation,  and 
advancement.  Born  on  the  thirteenth  of  October, 
1735,  he  was  forty  years  old  when  the  American 
Revolution  broke  out,  and  was  recognized  at  that 
time  as  the  clearest  mind  and  wisest  head  in  all  the 
long  list  of  New  England  patriots.  The  little  old 
Braintree  farmhouse  in  which  the  "  Father  of  the 
Fourth  of  July  "  was  born  still  stands,  a  treasured 
relic,  in  what  is  now  known  as  the  city  of  Quincy, 
a  few  miles  to  the  south  of  Boston. 

His  father  was  a  thrifty  farmer  of  the  thrifty  Bay 
Colony,  worth  perhaps  seventy-five  hundred  dollars 
in  lands  and  stock.  But  he  put  his  son  John 
through  Harvard  College,  from  which  the  boy 
graduated  at  twenty,  and  after  that  let  him  strike 
out  for  himself  as  a  schoolmaster  in  Worcester. 


92  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

Then  he  became  a  lawyer  in  Boston  and  Braintree, 
heard  that  famous  speech  by  James  Otis  in  the  Old 
Boston  State  House  against  the  writs  of  assistance, 
and  was  so  moved  and  stirred  by  it  that  he  became 
at  once  an  earnest  and  active  advocate  of  protest, 
resistance,  and  finally  of  independence  for  America. 
His  intelligence  and  ability  were  speedily  recog- 
nized by  his  associates  and  the  people.  He  was 
sent  by  them  as  a  representative  to  the  Legislature 
—  the  Great  and  General  Court  it  was  called  in 
those  days ;  and  when  Massachusetts  decided  upon 
union  of  action  he  was  one  of  the  five  Massachu- 
setts delegates  sent  to  the  first  Continental  Con- 
gress in  Philadelphia.  From  that  day  on,  for  fully 
fifty  years,  he  was  prominently  before  the  country 
as  one  of  its  best  and  chosen  men,  a  typical  New 
Englander,  a  patriotic  American. 

Bold,  outspoken,  upright,  and  true,  he  was  some- 
times conceited,  opinionated,  long-winded,  and 
brusque  ;  but  his  faults  were  far  outweighed  by  his 
virtues ;  for  he  always  had  what  is  called  the  cour- 
age of  his  convictions,  and  no  man  dared  more  or 
was  ready  to  sacrifice  more  for  the  cause  of  inde- 
pendence and  the  Republic  than  John  Adams,  of 
Braintree.  The  acts  and  deeds  for  which  America 
remembers  him  are  many ;  but  the  first  was  espe- 
cially significant.  This  was  his  manly  defence  of 
the  British  soldiers,  unwisely  tried  for  murder 
after  the  affray  with  the  street  mob  known  as  the 
"  Boston  massacre  "of  1770,  —  all  the  more  manly 


JOHN   ADAMS.  93 

because  there  was  no  bolder  patriot  than  John 
Adams,  but  there  was  none  more  desirous  of  seeing 
fair  play  than  he.  This  stands  out  as  his  earliest 
"  act  of  fame."  The  others  are  his  demand  for  a 
Continental  army  and  his  proposing  of  George 
Washington  as  its  commander-in-chief,  in  1775, 
of  which  I  have  just  told  you ;  his  speech  on  the 
first  of  July,  1776,  which  resulted  in  the  adoption 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence ;  the  recogni- 
tion, secured  by  him  from  Holland,  of  the  United 
States  of  America  as  a  nation  and  the  timely  loan 
of  money  which  he  obtained  from  the  thrifty  but 
friendly  Dutch  when  the  young  American  Republic 
was  sorely  in  need  of  funds  —  both  accomplished 
by  him  in  1782 ;  the  great  treaty  of  peace  with 
England  which  he  "  put  through  "  in  1783  ;  his 
patriotic  keeping  the  peace  with  France  when  he 
was  President,  in  1800,  and  when  every  one  was 
shouting  for  war ;  and  last,  but  by  no  means  the 
least,  his  brave,  bold  struggle  for  religious  liberty 
in  Massachusetts  in  1820,  when  the  rugged  old 
patriot  was  old  in  years  but  young  in  energy. 

In  wise  and  broad  humanity,  in  bold  and  out- 
spoken loyalty,  in  practical  and  helpful  patriotism, 
there  is  no  American  who  can  show  a  better  record 
as  there  are  few  to  be  held  in  more  lasting  remem- 
brance than  this  same  honest,  stanch,  stout,  cour- 
ageous, fussy,  hot-tempered,  but  always  fine  old 
patriot  John  Adams,  of  Quincy,  second  president 
of  the  United  States. 


94  HISTORIC    AMERICANS 

People  have  called  him  the  "  Father  of  the  Fourth 
of  July,"  not  only  because  he  was  instrumental  in 
making  that  day  famous  as  a  proposer  and  signer 
of  the  immortal  Declaration  of  Independence,  but 
because  it  was  John  Adams,  of  Massachusetts,  who 
saw  at  once  the  deep  and  lasting  meaning  of  that 
great  act,  and  prophesied  its  celebration  by  all 
Americans  in  later  ages.  We  call  it  the  fourth,  but 
it  was  really  the  second  of  July,  1776,  the  day  on 
which  Congress  passed  the  famous  resolution  intro- 
duced by  Richard  Henry  Lee,  of  Virginia,  declaring 
the  United  Colonies  of  America  to  be  free  and  in- 
dependent States.  It  was  on  that  day,  writing  home 
to  his  patriotic  wife  in  Quincy,  —  Abigail  Adams, 
one  of  America's  noblest  and  most  remarkable 
women,  —  that  John  Adams  made  his  memorable 
prophecy. 

"  The  second  of  July,  1776,"  he  wrote,  "  will  be 
the  most  memorable  epoch  in  the  history  of  America. 
I  am  apt  to  believe  that  it  will  be  celebrated  by 
succeeding  generations  as  the  great  Anniversary 
Festival.  It  ought  to  be  commemorated  by  solemn 
acts  of  devotion  to  Almighty  God.  It  ought  to  be 
solemnized  with  pomp  and  parade,  with  shows, 
games,  sports,  guns,  bonfires,  and  illuminations  from 
one  end  of  the  continent  to  the  other,  from  this  time 
forward,  forever  more." 

The  formal  Act  of  Declaration  was  signed  on 
the  fourth  day  of  July,  but  that  was  really  only  a 
ratification  of  the  work  of  July  second,  so  that  we 


JOHN   ADAMS.  95 

can  fairly  allow  to  John  Adams  the  claim  of  being 
the  prophet  and  father  of  our  glorious  Fourth  of 
July. 

This  was  by  no  means  John  Adams's  first  bit  of 
prophecy.  For  when  he  was  quite  a  young  fellow, 
in  1755,  the  very  year  of  Braddock's  defeat,  he  de- 
clared that  if  the  American  and  English  soldiers 
succeeded  in  driving  the  French  power  from  Canada 
the  American  colonists  would  increase  and  grow  so 
strong  that  in  another  century  they  would  exceed 
the  British,  and  then,  he  added  significantly,  "  All 
England  will  be  unable  to  subdue  us." 

That  prophecy  has  indeed  come  true  ;  and  to-day, 
as  the  twentieth  century  opens,  the  England  that 
John  Adams  defied  and  the  America  he  helped  to 
build  are  drawing  closer  together  as  "  brothers-in- 
blood,"  rivals  and  foemen  no  longer. 

It  is  well  to  recall  the  public  services  of  John 
Adams,  who,  not  liking  public  life,  was  yet  con- 
tinually in  it  for  over  forty  years,  always  doing  his 
duty  honestly  and  fearlessly,  like  the  honest  and 
fearless  man  he  was.  A  member  of  the  first  and 
second  Continental  Congresses,  he  was  also  elected 
chief-justice  of  Massachusetts,  first  secretary  of  war 
to  the  Republic,  —  or  war  minister,  as  he  called  it,  — 
envoy  and  minister  to  France,  Holland,  and  Eng- 
land, vice-president  of  the  United  States,  and  then 
president ;  he  closed  his  career,  as  I  have  told  you, 
as  a  member  of  the  convention  called  to  prepare  a 
new  Constitution  for  Massachusetts  into  which  he 


96  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

labored  hard  to  introduce  a  clause  permitting  abso- 
lute religious  tolerance  in  the  Bay  State.  But  the 
home  of  the  wise  and  bold,  though  harsh  and  often 
bigoted  ministers  of  the  Puritan  days  was  not  yet 
ready  for  this  open  welcome  to  all  religions  —  the 
efforts  of  the  old  man  of  eighty-five  were  not  then 
successful ;  but  to-day  the  State  he  loved  so  dearly 
and  worked  for  so  unselfishly  follows  the  aged 
patriot's  wise  counsel,  and  opens  wide  its  doors  to 
all  who,  in  different  ways,  but  in  a  common  spirit  of 
toleration,  serve  the  Lord  after  their  own  fashion 
and  desire. 

The  life  of  John  Adams  was  filled  with  great 
purposes  and  great  endeavors;  to  it  were  linked 
many  of  the  grand  events  that  have  long  since 
become  historic,  and,  as  a  fitting  close  to  so  notable 
a  life,  he  died  on  the  anniversary  of  the  day  he  had 
helped  to  make  famous,  the  Fourth  of  July,  1826, 
the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  American  Republic. 

Like  Governor  John  Winthrop,  of  whom  I  have 
told  you,  John  Adams  kept  a  diary.  Indeed,  he 
kept  one  nearly  all  of  his  life,  and  this  diary,  with 
the  letters  to  his  gifted  wife,  have  been  a  never- 
failing  source  from  which  to  draw  descriptions  of 
events,  now  historic,  of  men  and  manners  long  since 
passed  away,  and  of  the  early,  formative,  sprouting 
days  of  the  Republic.  Men  often  write  too  much 
and  talk  too  much,  so  that  personalities  fre- 
quently get  them  into  trouble.  This  was  some- 
times the  case  with  John  Adams.  He  loved  to 


JOHN   ADAMS.  97 

gossip ;  he  was  careless  as  to  what  he  said  about 
people,  and  he  frequently  got  into  trouble  and 
turned  former  friends  into  enemies,  especially  men 
of  prominence  and  patriotism  like  Jefferson  and 
Hamilton.  But  we  can  forgive  his  eccentricities 
and  indiscretions  when  we  remember  how  much 
of  good  he  did  in  his  day  and  generation  ;  especially 
may  we  be  lenient  when  we  discover  that  the  cut- 
ting things  John  Adams  said  about  people  were 
very  often  true,  and  either  led  them  to  change 
their  way  or  opened  their  eyes  sufficiently  to  enable 
them  to  see  the  right  way  to  do  things. 

He  had  said  a  great  many  hard  things  about 
George,  king  of  England,  and  King  George  had 
certainly  said  many  hard  things  about  John  Adams, 
chief  rebel.  In  fact,  there  were  points  about  each 
of  these  men  that  were  similar,  though  what  in 
King  George  we  are  quick  to  call  obstinacy  in  John 
Adams  we  recognize  as  firmness  and  loyalty  to 
principle !  Both  were  strictly  honest  and  very 
plain-spoken,  so  when  they  met,  at  the  time  John 
Adams  was  sent  to  England  as  the  first  minister  of 
the  United  States  to  the  Court  of  St.  James,  people 
wondered  what  they  would  say  to  one  another  and 
who  first  would  lose  his  temper. 

But  those  who  expected  an  explosion  were  dis- 
appointed. John  Adams  had  gone  to  school  to  ex- 
perience and  had  learned  to  keep  his  temper  and  ho\v 
to  drape  the  bare  truth  with  the  veil  of  diplomacy. 

We  can  imagine  the  meeting.     The  short  and 


98  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

stout  American  of  the  Yankee  type  is  presented  to 
the  short  and  stout  Englishman  of  the  German 
type  ;  each  hating  the  other  cordially,  but  both  hav- 
ing the  courtesy  and  dignity  to  treat  each  other  like 
gentlemen. 

They  met  in  the  private  apartments  of  the  king  at 
St.  James  palace,  known  then  as  the  king's  closet. 

"  I  think  myself  more  fortunate  than  all  my  fel- 
low-citizens," said  the  first  minister  from  the  king's 
revolted  colonies  now  acknowledged  a  nation,  "  in 
having  the  distinguished  honor  to  be  the  first  to 
stand  in  your  majesty's  presence  in  a  diplomatic 
character ;  and  I  shall  esteem  myself  the  happiest 
of  men  if  I  can  be  instrumental  in  recommending 
my  country  more  and  more  to  your  majesty's  royal 
benevolence  and  in  restoring  an  entire  esteem,  con- 
fidence, and  affection,  or,  in  other  words,  the  old 
good-nature  and  the  old  good-humor,  between 
people  who,  though  separated  by  an  ocean  and 
under  different  governments,  have  the  same  lan- 
guage, a  similar  religion,  and  kindred  blood." 

And  the  king,  evidently  affected  and  with  a  tre- 
mor in  his  voice,  replied  as  honestly  as  John  Adams 
had  spoken. 

"  I  will  be  very  frank  with  you,  sir,"  he  said. 
"  I  was  the  last  to  consent  to  the  separation  ;  but 
the  separation  having  been  made  I  will  be  the  first 
to  meet  the  United  States  as  an  independent  power. 
The  moment  I  see  such  sentiments  as  yours  prevail 
and  a  disposition  to  give  this  country  the  preference, 


JOHN   ADAMS.  99 

that  moment  I  shall  say  let  the  circumstances  of 
language,  religion,  and  blood  have  their  natural  and 
full  effect." 

This  being  concluded,  the  king,  who  detested  the 
French,  intimated  that  he  had  understood  that 
Mr.  Adams  did  not  like  the  French  as  much  as 
some  Americans  did.  Whereupon  John  Adams, 
"  embarrassed,"  as  he  tells  us  in  one  of  his  delight- 
ful letters,  "  but  determined  not  to  deny  the  truth 
on  one  hand  nor  leave  him  to  infer  from  it  any 
attachment  to  England  on  the  other,"  boldly  but 
pleasantly  replied :  "  That  opinion,  sir,  is  not  mis- 
taken. I  must  avow  to  your  majesty  I  have  no 
attachment  but  to  my  own  country." 

"  An  honest  man  will  never  have  any  other,  sir," 
the  king  replied  with  a  bow,  and  the  two  honest,  if 
obstinate  men  separated,  not  loving  each  other  any 
better,  but  with  an  increased  respect  for  each  other's 
sincerity,  courage,  and  loyalty. 

Sincerity,  courage,  and  loyalty  were  indeed  the 
three  things  that  marked  John  Adams's  life  and 
made  him  the  safe  and  reliable  guide  for  the  Re- 
public in  its  days  of  struggle  and  beginning.  It 
was  these  that  led  his  fellow-countrymen  to  place 
so  many  responsibilities  upon  him,  to  trust  in  his 
wisdom  and  have  faith  in  his  ability,  and,  at  last, 
to  raise  to  the  highest  position  in  their  gift  the 
strong,  truth-loving,  devoted  patriot,  whom,  in  the 
days  of  '76,  men  had  delighted  to  call  "  the  Colos- 
sus of  Independence." 


VIII. 

THE  STORY  OF  THOMAS  JEFFERSON,  OF 
MONTICELLO, 

CALLED  "  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  DECLARATION." 


Born  at  Shadwell,  Virginia,  April  2, 1743. 
Died  at  Monticello,  Virginia,  July  4,  1826. 


"  Neither  national  independence  nor  state  sovereignty  were 
the  controlling  aim  and  attempt  of  his  life ;  no  party  or  tem- 
porary advantage  was  the  object  of  his  endeavors.  He  fought 
for  the  ever-enduring  privilege  of  personal  freedom."  —  Paul 
Leicester  Ford. 

IN  an  upper  chamber  in  a  plain,  unpretentious 
brick  house  on  the  corner  of  Seventh  and  Market 
streets  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia  a  man  sat  at  a 
table  writing.  The  paper  rested  before  him  on  a 
little  travelling  writing-desk  ;  the  completed  sheets 
lay  beside  it,  scattered  about  the  table  ;  the  quills, 
"  mended  "  for  immediate  use,  were  in  the  opened 
drawer ;  and  every  now  and  then  the  writer,  paus- 
ing, would  catch  up  a  sheet  and  read,  half-aloud,  a 
completed  paragraph. 

He  was  a  tall,  slim,  somewhat  sharp-f  eatureciman 
of  thirty-two,  over  six  feet  in  height,  and  straight 
as  an  arrow,  sandy-haired,  red-faced,  hazel-eyed, 

100 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON.  101 

frank  and  earnest  of  countenance,  large  and  strong 
of  limb.  His  name  was  Thomas  Jefferson,  and  he 
was  a  delegate  to  the  Continental  Congress  from 
the  Colony  of  Virginia,  the  home  of  brave,  deter- 
mined, and  able  men. 

There  came  a  rap  at  the  door,  and  laying  aside 
his  pen  Jefferson  rose,  with  a  cheery  "  Come  in !  " 
to  welcome  his  visitor.  The  new-comer  was  a  big, 
stout,  impressive,  and  pleasant-faced  old  gentleman 
whose  picture  every  boy  and  girl  in  America  knows 
at  sight  to-day  —  Benjamin  Franklin,  of  Pennsyl- 
vania. 

"  Well,  Brother  Jefferson,  is  the  fair  copy  made?" 
he  asked. 

"  All  ready,  doctor,"  replied  Jefferson.  "  Will 
you  hear  it  through  once  more?" 

"As  many  times  as  you  wish,"  responded  the 
smiling  "  doctor,"  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye. 
"  One  can't  get  too  much  of  a  good  thing,  you  know." 

And  settling  himself  comfortably  in  a  big  high- 
backed  easy-chair  beside  the  open  window  —  for  it 
was  June  in  Philadelphia,  the  time  for  open  win- 
dows —  Franklin  prepared  to  listen,  while  in  clear, 
even  tones  —  not  the  voice  of  an  orator,  but  rather 
of  one  who  listens  more  than  he  talks  —  Jefferson 
read  his  "  fair  copy  "  of  one  of  the  world's  greatest 
papers. 

You  know  what  that  paper  was,  for  you  know 
who  wrote  it  —  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
written  by  Thomas  Jefferson. 


102  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

Franklin's  delight  over  the  document  was  un- 
bounded. He  had  already  heard  it  before,  and  had 
suggested,  as  had  John  Adams,  to  whom  the  first 
draft  was  also  read,  a  few  slight  changes  ;  but  the 
completed  and  amended  paper  interested  him 
deeply.  Its  terse  and  direct  statements,  its  brief 
but  vigorous  sentences,  its  culminating  catalogue 
of  grievances,  its  merciless  censure,  and  its  deter- 
mination beyond  the  power  of  compromise,  gave 
that  practical  and  sympathetic  philosopher  and 
patriot  satisfaction  and  content. 

"  That 's  good,  Thomas ;  that 's  right  to  the  point ; 
that  will  make  King  George  wince,"  were  among 
his  expressions  of  approval,  as  charge  after  charge, 
and  assertion  upon  assertion,  were  read  to  him.  "  I 
wish  I  had  done  it  myself." 

It  is  held  by  some  to  have  been  an  excellent 
thing  that  jolly  Benjamin  Franklin  did  not  write 
the  Declaration,  and  that  Thomas  Jefferson  did. 
For  the  cheerful  old  philosopher,  it  is  claimed,  who 
would  have  his  fun  no  matter  how  serious  the 
matter  under  discussion,  would,  as  one  biographer 
asserts,  "have  put  a  joke  even  into  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence,  if  it  had  fallen  to  his  lot  to 
write  that  immortal  document."  Read  the  story 
of  how  the  great  signers,  as  they  put  down  their 
names,  joked  to  hide  their  deep  and  earnest  emo- 
tions, and  you  will  see  what  was  "  Franklin's  way." 
But  Thomas  Jefferson,  burning  with  a  bitter 
hatred  of  tyranny,  impressed  with  the  greatness  of 


THAT    PAPER    WAS    THE    DECLARATION    OF    INDEPENDENCE,     WRITTEN     BY 
THOMAS   JEFFERSON. 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON.  103 

the  step  taken,  and  so  determined  as  to  the  justice 
of  the  course  outlined  by  the  Declaration  that,  as 
he  said,  "  rather  than  submit  to  the  right  of  legis- 
lating for  us  assumed  by  the  British  Parliament  I 
would  lend  my  hand  to  sink  the  whole  island  in 
the  ocean,"  was  peculiarly  fitted  to  write  such  a 
paper  as  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and 
could  be  counted  upon  to  do  it  briefly,  grandly, 
and  to  the  point. 

His  conversion  to  the  cause  of  independence  had 
been  much  like  that  of  young  John  Adams  as  he 
listened  to  the  fiery  words  of  James  Otis.  For  as 
young  Thomas  Jefferson,  aged  twenty-two,  stood  in 
the  doorway  of  the  House  of  Burgesses  at  Will- 
iamsburg  and  listened  to  Patrick  Henry's  ringing 
speech  which  ended,  "  Csesar  had  his  Brutus, 
Charles  the  First  his  Cromwell,  and  George  the 
Third  —  may  profit  by  their  example,"  he  went 
over  body  and  soul  to  the  necessity  of  resistance 
to  tyranny,  and  became  as  open  a  "  rebel "  as  Henry 
or  any  patriot  in  the  whole  colony  of  Virginia. 

The  son  of  a  prosperous  Virginia  farmer,  born  in 
a  farmhouse,  as  was  George  Washington,  and  like 
Washington  left  fatherless  while  yet  a  small  boy, 
Thomas  Jefferson  was  a  spirited,  wide-awake, 
earnest  young  fellow,  a  great  lover  of  out-of-doors, 
and  an  advocate,  through  all  his  long  life,  of  field 
and  forest  and  a  farmer's  life. 

But  he  was  soon  drawn  into  public  life  by  his 
success  as  a  lawyer  and  his  interest  in  the  stirring 


104  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

affairs  of  the  day.  At  twenty-six  he  became  a 
member  of  the  Virginia  House  of  Burgesses  and 
went  deeply  into  politics,  in  which,  however,  he 
was  at  once  prudent,  honest,  and  clean,  living  up 
to  a  vow,  made  even  as  a  young  man,  never  to  be 
drawn  into  speculations  nor  "  jobs  "  nor  any  of  the 
questionable  "  tricks  "  that  too  often  soil  the  name 
of  politics  and  make  them  distasteful  to  honest  and 
patriotic  men. 

When  discussion  led  to  protest  and  protest  to 
threats  of  resistance  Jefferson  at  once  espoused 
the  cause  of  the  people,  and  in  1774  insisted  that 
the  lead  in  this  cause  should  be  taken  by  young 
men  and  not  by  "  old  fogies ; "  while  he  openly 
declared  in  the  House  of  Burgesses  that  Virginia 
"  must  boldly  take  an  unequivocal  stand  in  the 
line  with  Massachusetts." 

With  the  bolder  spirits  of  Henry  and  Lee  and 
Mason,  as  Jefferson  recorded  it  in  later  years,  "  I 
went  at  all  points ; "  so  it  was  not  to  be  wondered 
at  that  when  Washington  was  sent  to  Cambridge 
as  commander-in-chief  of  the  Continental  army, 
Thomas  Jefferson  was  sent  to  Congress  in  his  place 
as  delegate  from  Virginia.  There  he  became  so 
earnest  an  advocate  of  independence  that,  as  one 
of  his  biographers  declares,  he  would  have  lost  his 
head  "  had  it  been  less  inconvenient "  to  get  him 
across  the  sea  to  England.  Though  one  of  the 
youngest  men  in  Congress,  he  was  at  once  appointed 
on  the  committee  to  prepare  a  Declaration  of  In- 


THOMAS   JEFFERSON.  105 

dependence  and  was  by  that  committee  selected  to 
write  that  ever-famous  document. 

With  but  very  few  changes  that  Declaration,  on 
the  second  of  July,  1776,  went  before  Congress, 
just  as  Jefferson  wrote  it,  and  though,  in  the 
debate  upon  it,  he  sat  silent,  not  joining  in  because, 
as  he  said,  he  deemed  it  his  duty  to  hear  and  not 
to  talk,  history  tells  us  that  he  was  far  from  com- 
fortable during  the  discussion  in  which  he  would 
not  join  and  sat  "writhing"  under  the  criticism 
that  its  bold  utterance  called  out,  until  good 
Benjamin  Franklin,  to  calm  him  down,  had  to  tell 
him  funny  stories  that  fitted  the  case. 

But  John  Adams  came  to  his  side  with  so  strong 
and  splendid  a  defence  of  the  whole  Declaration 
as  Jefferson  had  written  it  that  even  the  critics 
were  silenced  and  the  doubters  convinced ;  and  at 
last,  on  the  fourth  of  July,  1776,  Jefferson  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  his  cherished  paper  accepted, 
adopted,  and  signed,  and  he  himself,  though  he 
knew  it  not,  made  famous  for  all  time  as  the  author 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 

The  magnitude  of  that  one  act  overshadowed  all 
the  others  of  his  long,  active,  and  useful  life,  and 
yet,  so  thoroughly  was  the  Declaration  a  part  of 
himself,  so  honestly  did  he  live^up  to  his  belief, 
expressed  in  the  opening  paragraph  of  his  great 
Declaration,  that  "  all  men  are  created  equal,"  that 
he  has  also  been  esteemed  the  Father  of  American 
Democracy.  For  generations  his  name  has  been 


106  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

used  as  a  rallying  cry  by  millions  of  men,  while  his 
spirit  has  been  evoked  as  its  patron  saint  by  one  of 
the  great  political  parties  of  America  whose  mem- 
bers lovingly  and  loyally  refer  to  their  particular 
political  faith  as  "  the  true  Jeffersonian  Democracy." 

Elected  as  governor  of  Virginia  while  yet  the 
Revolutionary  war  was  at  its  height,  he  worked 
unceasingly  to  bear  up  Virginia's  part  in  the  great 
struggle  and  meet  the  incessant  demand  that  came 
to  him  for  men  and  money,  horses,  arms,  and  food. 
But  arms,  money,  wagons,  and  horses  were  at  last 
exhausted,  and  he  himself  realized  the  harshness  of 
unjust  criticism  when  men  took  him  to  task  for 
doing  the  very  thing  he  was  expected  to  do  —  send- 
ing men  out  of  Virginia  to  help  fight  the  battles  of 
the  country  when  Virginia  herself  felt  the  hand 
and  heel  of  the  British  invader.  The  lot  of  a  war 
governor  is  by  no  means  a  pleasant  one,  as  Jefferson 
learned  to  his  sorrow,  when,  doing  his  duty,  he 
found  himself  blamed  for  what  was  really  a  neces- 
sity and  a  right. 

Once  again  he  was  sent  as  a  delegate  to  Con- 
gress, in  1783,  and  while  there  advocated  the  meas- 
ures which,  in  time,  developed  into  the  founding, 
settlement,  and  development  of  the  great  Western 
section  of  the  United  States,  then  known  as  the 
Northwest  Territory.  He  reported,  too,  a  plan  of 
government  for  that  mighty  region  which  contained 
a  grand  provision  and  one  which  became  the  foun- 
dation-stone and  glory  of  the  great  and  prosperous 


THOMAS   JEFFERSON.  107 

West;  this  was  that  "after  the  year  1800  of  the 
Christian  era  there  shall  be  neither  slavery  nor 
involuntary  servitude  in  any  of  the  said  States." 
For  though  a  Southern  man  and  a  slaveholder 
Thomas  Jefferson  was  a  hater  of  slavery,  and  in 
this  act  of  freedom  was  the  forerunner,  you  see,  of 
Abraham  Lincoln,  America's  great  emancipator. 

In  1784  Jefferson  was  named  by  Congress  minis- 
ter to  France  in  place  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  who, 
after  long  and  remarkable  service  there,  had  begged 
leave  to  come  home.  Then  it  was  that  the  Vir- 
ginian made  his  kind  and  courteous  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  greatness  of  his  famous  colleague  and 
associate  of  the  "  Declaration  days." 

"  You  replace  Dr.  Franklin,  I  hear,"  said  the 
prime  minister  of  King  Louis  of  France  when  Mr. 
Jefferson  was  introduced  to  him  at  the  court. 

Jefferson  bowed  with  his  customary  dignity  and 
courtesy.  "  Sir,"  he  said,  "  I  succeed  Dr.  Frank- 
lin ;  no  one  can  replace  him."  And  the  fame  of 
that  appreciative,  generous,  and  kindly  recognition 
of  greatness  has  outlived  all  the  criticism  and 
many  of  the  important  actions  of  Thomas  Jefferson. 

For  five  years  Jefferson  remained  abroad  as  the 
United  States  minister  to  France,  and  then  came 
home,  loving  his  native  land  better  than  ever. 
"  Go  to  Europe,"  he  advised  his  friend  James  Mon- 
roe ;  "  it  will  make  you  adore  your  own  country, 
its  soil,  its  climate,  its  equality,  liberty,  laws, 
people,  and  manners." 


108  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

When,  in  December,  1789,  he  returned  to  his 
much-loved  farm  at  Monticello  —  the  "•  little  moun- 
tain "  just  outside  the  town  of  Charlottesville  in 
Virginia  —  he  received  an  invitation  from  George 
Washington,  who  had  just  been  elected  the  first 
president  of  the  United  States,  to  enter  his  Cabinet 
as  secretary  of  state  —  an  honor  which,  while  pre- 
ferring private  life,  Jefferson  still  accepted,  be- 
cause Washington  desired  it. 

His  four  years  as  secretary  of  state  were  a 
troubled  and  stormy  time,  occupied  mostly  with  his 
quarrel  with  his  chief  rival  and  political  opponent, 
Alexander  Hamilton,  the  secretary  of  the  treas- 
ury. The  people  of  the  country  sided  with  one  or 
the  other  of  these  great  chiefs,  and  from  these  fac- 
tions came  the  two  great  political  parties  of 
America,  which,  since  Jefferson's  day,  under  differ- 
ent names  but  with  practically  unchanging  foun- 
dation principles,  have  made  the  political  history 
of  the  Republic,  as  Republicans  and  Democrats. 

In  1793  he  retired  from  the  Cabinet  and  went  to 
his  beloved  farm  to  rest  and  watch.  But  in  three 
years'  time  he  was  called  into  service  again  as  vice- 
president  of  the  United  States,  although  he  declared 
of  himself,  "  I  have  no  ambition  to  govern  men  ;  no 
passion  which  would  delight  me  to  ride  a  storm. 
My  attachment  is  to  my  home." 

All  of  these  desires,  however,  he  was  called  upon 
to  forego ;  by  the  votes  of  the  Republic  he  was 
selected  "  to  govern  men,"  "  to  ride  a  storm,"  and 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON.  109 

to  leave  his  delightful  home  on  a  mountain.  For, 
after  four  years'  service  as  vice-president,  he  was 
elected  to  the  still  higher  office,  and  became,  in 
1800,  the  third  president  of  the  United  States. 
Even  upon  his  entrance  to  this  high  dignity  he  kept 
his  simple  ways,  for  he  rode  to  his  inauguration 
some  say  in  a  hired  coach,  because  his  own  had  not 
arrived  from  Monticello,  others  say  on  horseback, 
hitching  his  horse  to  the  Capitol  fence,  and  walking 
into  the  Senate  chamber  unannounced  to  take  the 
oath  of  office  as  president.  Whichever  is  true,  the 
fact  is  that  Jefferson  liked  to  make  a  display  of 
what  he  called  "  democratic  simplicity,"  which  is 
often  more  ostentatious  by  its  emphasis  of  simplicity 
than  the  usual  and  customary  ceremonies  which 
add  weight  and  dignity  to  a  high  office  of  trust  or 
responsibility. 

But  that  was  Jefferson's  main  desire  -  -  to  be 
simply  one  of  the  people,  not  one  above  the  people. 
He  hated  anything  like  "  fuss  and  feathers."  Court 
etiquette,  which  had  prevailed  in  the  White  House 
since  the  ceremonious  manners  of  Washington's 
stately  days,  was  entirely  done  away  with,  while 
titles  like  "  Honorable  "  and  "  Your  Excellency  " 
were  most  objectionable  to  him,  and  even  plain 
"  Mr."  he  regarded  as  superfluous,  aristocratic,  and 
unnecessary.  The  president  of  the  United  States, 
he  declared,  was  just  a  man  —  no  different  from  the 
humblest  citizen ;  and  he  said,  "  If  it  be  possible  to 
be  certainly  conscious  of  anything,  I  am  conscious 


110  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

of  feeling  no  difference  between  writing  to  the 
highest  and  lowest  being  on  earth." 

This,  you  see,  was  but  an  instance  of  what  Mr. 
Ford  declares  to  have  been  Thomas  Jefferson's  con- 
trolling principle  —  "  the  ever-enduring  privilege  of 
personal  freedom  ;  "  it  is  but  a  practical  carrying  out 
of  the  assertion  with  which  he  opened  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence,  that  "  All  men  are  created 
equal ; "  and  yet  even  great  truths  may  be  trifled 
with  or  strained  into  too  liberal  meaning.  So 
we  cannot  wonder  that  during  his  presidency  even 
Thomas  Jefferson  had  occasion  to  depart  from  his 
theories  as  to  the  president's  office ;  for  when, 
once,  in  a  famous  political  trial,  one  side  wished  to 
subpoena  the  president  —  that  is,  call  him  into  court 
as  a  witness  —  President  Jefferson  indignantly  re- 
fused, and  declared  that  a  court  of  law  could  not 
and  should  not  order  the  president  of  the  United 
States  to  take  the  stand  as  a  common  witness.  He 
was  right ;  but  his  decision  hardly  agreed  with  his 
broad  democratic  stand. 

As  president  of  the  United  States  Thomas  Jef- 
ferson sent  Commodore  Decatur  and  his  sailors 
across  the  water  to  bring  the  Dey  of  Algiers  to 
terms  and  say  to  him,  with  voice  and  guns,  "  No 
tribute  from  America  to  you  and  your  pirates." 
He  was  the  earliest  advocate  of  American  expan- 
sion; for  he  arranged  the  purchase  of  Louisiana 
from  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  the  master  of  France, 
and  thus  added  to  the  United  States  the  whole 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON.  Ill 

western  country  beyond  the  Mississippi ;  and  he 
almost  ruined  the  commerce  of  the  country  by  the 
Embargo  Act  of  1807,  by  which  he  sought  to  bring 
France  and  England  to  terms,  and  which,  he  always 
held,  if  loyally  supported  and  honestly  kept  would 
have  prevented  our  second  war  with  England,  in 
1812. 

Jefferson  served  two  terms  as  president,  retiring 
finally  in  1808  and  seeking  the  grateful  seclusion 
of  private  life  on  his  farm  at  Monticello,  after  forty 
years  of  service  devoted  to  the  good  of  his  country. 
But  he  was  too  prominent  a  man  to  be  allowed  this 
"•  grateful  seclusion."  He  could  not  be  left  alone, 
and  he  was  kept  so  busy  being  hospitable  at  his 
great  house  on  the  hill  that  it  very  nearly  ruined 
him.  He  got  into  money  troubles,  and  when  he 
was  an  old  and  tired  man  found  himself  in  such 
desperate  straits  for  money  that  he  nearly  lost 
Monticello  and  had  to  sell  his  fine  library  to  meet 
his  actual  needs. 

But  when  the  people  of  the  Republic  learned  in 
what  great  trouble  he  was  they  would  not  let  the 
author  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  suffer 
from  loss  or  necessity.  Public  subscriptions  were 
started  throughout  the  country,  and  money  enough 
was  raised  to  save  his  home  and  secure  his  com- 
fort. Jefferson,  who  would  not  listen  to  the  idea 
of  aid  from  the  treasury  of  his  State,  was  willing 
to  accept  help  from  the  American  people  for  whom 
he  had  lived  and  labored,  "  for,"  said  he,  "  no  cent 


112  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

of  this  is  wrung  from  the  tax-payers ;  it  is  the  pure 
and  unsolicited  offering  of  love." 

But  in  the  midst  of  this  popular  effort  for  his 
relief  the  en'd  came,  and  on  the  Fourth  of  July, 
1826,  on  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  day  made 
famous  by  his  greatest  work,  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  Thomas  Jefferson  died  in  the  great 
bedroom  of  Monticello,  and  on  that  same  day,  as  I 
have  told  you,  died  his  old-time  friend  and  fellow- 
worker,  his  political  opponent  of  later  years,  and 
his  predecessor  as  president  of  the  United  States, 
John  Adams,  of  Massachusetts. 

Midway  down  the  forest-fringed  mountain-road 
that  leads  from  the  sightly  mansion  of  Monticello  to 
the  beautiful  valley  below,  within  an  iron-fenced 
enclosure,  the  traveller  may  see  to-day  a  plain,  sim- 
ple ten-foot  obelisk  of  brown  stone,  already  marked 
by  age  and  marred  by  relic-hunters.  And  on  the 
pedestal  he  may  read  this  inscription,  prepared  by 
Jefferson  himself,  "  Here  lies  buried  Thomas  Jef- 
ferson :  author  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
of  the  Statutes  of  Virginia  for  Religious  Freedom, 
and  Father  of  the  University  of  Virginia."  Those 
were  the  acts  of  his  life  that  Thomas  Jefferson 
counted  most  notable. 

Three  miles  away  in  a  straight  line  from  the 
hill  of  Monticello,  and  quite  on  the  other  side  of 
the  picturesque  old  town  of  Charlottesville,  rise 
the  clustering  buildings  of  the  University  of 
Virginia,  the  child  of  Jefferson's  latest  years, 


THOMAS   JEFFERSON.  113 

endowed  by  his  exertions  and  ever  faithful  to  his 
memory. 

In  view  of  what  has  made  history  for  the  United 
States  in  the  closing  years  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, it  is  interesting  to  read  what  was  Jefferson's 
dream  of  America's  march  of  destiny  in  territorial 
expansion.  It  was  at  the  time  of  Napoleon's 
greatness,  and  soon  after  the  purchase  of  the  vast 
western  country  that  came  to  us  with  Louisiana. 
For  the  sake  of  crippling  Spain,  Napoleon,  he  said, 
could  be  induced  to  give  Florida  to  the  United 
States. 

"  But  that  is  no  price,"  he  continued,  "  because 
that  is  ours  in  the  very  first  moment  of  war.  .  .  . 
But,  although  with  difficulty,  he  will  consent  to  our 
receiving  Cuba  into  our  Union.  .  .  .  That  would 
be  a  price,  and  I  would  immediately  erect  a  column 
on  the  southernmost  limit  of  Cuba,  and  inscribe  on 
it  "  Ne  plus  ultra"  as  to  all  in  that  direction.  Then 
we  should  only  have  to  include  the  north  (Canada) 
in  our  confederacy,  and  we  should  have  such  an 
empire  for  Liberty  as  she  has  never  surveyed  since 
the  creation ;  and  I  am  persuaded  that  no  Constitu- 
tion was  ever  before  so  well  calculated  as  ours  for 
extensive  empire  and  self-government." 

So,  you  see,  Cuba  is  not  a  new  story  with  Ameri- 
cans, nor  is  the  widening  of  our  borders  a  recent 
aspiration ;  while  as  for  its  being  a  departure  from  the 
Declaration  and  the  Constitution  —  well !  you  see 
what  the  author  of  the  Declaration  himself  asserted. 


114  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

A  strong  man  every  way,  in  mind  as  well  as  in 
body,  Thomas  Jefferson  stands  in  the  history  of  the 
Republic  as  a  great  leader,  a  great  American,  and  a 
great  man.  With  an  undying  love  for  the  common 
people  and  an  unwavering  faith  in  them  he  held  to 
their  will  as  the  sole  law  of  the  land,  and  became, 
for  the  American  Republic,  the  typical  democrat  — 
a  believer  in  the  theory  of  government  by  the 
people.  Politically  he  was  a  mighty  factor  in 
American  history ;  he  trained  the  two  succeeding 
presidents  for  their  high  office,  and  to-day,  seventy- 
five  years  after  his  death,  he  is  still  a  power  in  the 
land,  and  his  is  a  name  to  conjure  by. 

Personally  Jefferson  was  a  charming  character. 
He  was  lovable,  benevolent,  intelligent,  cheery  of 
manner,  and  pleasant  in  disposition.  He  was  never 
angry,  fretful,  or  discontented;  he  was  happiest 
when  helping  others,  and  followed  out,  as  one  of 
his  chief  rules  of  conduct,  his  precept :  "  Never  to 
trouble  another  for  what  he  could  do  himself." 

The  life  of  no  man  is  perfect.  Even  the  most 
exalted  have  their  failings,  the  most  brilliant  their 
shortcomings.  Thomas  Jefferson  was  no  exception 
to  the  general  rule,  but  though  many  differed  from 
him,  living,  and  criticised  him,  dead,  millions  of 
Americans  have  followed  his  teachings  implicitly 
through  more  than  a  hundred  years  of  the  Republic's 
progress,  while  every  American,  of  whatever  politi- 
cal faith,  reverences  and  cherishes  the  memory  of 
the  author  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 


IX. 


THE  STORY  OF  ALEXANDER  HAMILTON, 
OF  NEW  YORK, 

CALLED    "THE   FRAMEB   OF    THE   CONSTITUTION." 


Born  on  the  Island  of  Nevis,  West  Indies,  January  11, 1757. 
Died  at  New  York  City,  July  11, 1804. 


"  So  long  as  the  people  of  the  United  States  form  one  nation, 
the  name  of  Alexander  Hamilton  will  be  held  in  high  and  lasting 
honor,  and,  even  in  the  wreck  of  governments,  that  grand 
intellect  would  still  command  the  homage  of  men." — Henry 
Cabot  Lodge. 

ONE  after  another  the  orators  had  spoken  and 
the  people  had  cheered.  And  yet  none  of  the 
speakers  had  touched  the  root  of  the  matter.  The 
object  of  this  out-door  meeting  had  been  to  urge 
the  province  of  New  York  to  put  itself  in  line  with 
the  other  American  colonies  in  advocating  and 
demanding  a  Congress  of  the  colonies  for  consul- 
tation and  action.  It  was  an  important  question, 
and  such  the  New  York  patriots  who  had  brought 
about  this  open-air  meeting  in  the  Fields  felt  it  to 
be.  But  something  was  lacking  in  the  arguments 
or  earnestness  of  the  speakers.  They  had  talked 
and  talked,  but  had  said  nothing  and  accomplished 

115 


116  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

nothing.  The  hearts  of  the  leaders  who  had 
arranged  for  this  big  public  meeting  in  the  Fields 
were  heavy.  "  Have  we  no  one  who  can  stir  the 
people  to  action  ?  "  they  queried.  "  Can  no  one  here 
put  the  matter  straight  ?  " 

Just  then  there  was  a  stir  in  the  crowd,  and 
through  the  throng  gathered  about  the  speakers' 
platform  a  young  man  elbowed  his  way. 

He  was  a  little  fellow  and  almost  boyish-look- 
ing, not  more  than  fifteen  or  sixteen,  you  would 
say.  But  he  managed  to  force  his  way  through 
the  press  and  the  next  moment  had  leaped  to  the 
platform. 

"May  I  speak  a  few  words,  sir?"  he  asked  the 
chairman. 

The  chairman  and  those  with  him  looked  on 
the  boy  in  astonishment,  while  the  crowd  that 
thronged  about  the  speaker's  stand  could  only 
stare  and  wonder  at  this  rather  fresh-looking  lad 
who  wished  to  make  a  speech. 

"  Hooray  for  the  little  West  Injun ! "  came  a 
voice  from  the  crowd ;  and  as  anything  was  welcome 
that  would  create  a  diversion  or  arouse  the  common 
enthusiasm  even  this  boy  might  be  worth  hearing. 

The  chairman  nodded. 

"  What  name  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Hamilton,  Alexander  Hamilton,  sir,"  the  young 
orator  replied.  "  I  won't  keep  them  long." 

Then,  looking  down  into  the  eyes  of  the  multi- 
tude about  him,  the  lad  for  an  instant  hesitated  as 


ALEXANDER    HAMILTON.  117 

if  just  a  bit  stage-struck.  It  was  only  for  an  instant, 
however.  Then  the  words  began  to  come,  and  at 
once  this  youthful  orator  had  plunged  into  a  flood 
of  speech. 

A  mere  boy  he  seemed  to  his  audience,  small  in 
stature  and  slight  in  figure,  with  brilliant  eyes 
deep  set  in  a  swarthy  face ;  but  as  he  talked  men 
forgot  his  age,  his  appearance,  his  boyishness. 
They  could  only  listen  in  wonder,  query,  and  con- 
viction to  the  arguments,  the  declaration,  and  the 
appeals  that  came  from  this  boy's  lips. 

This  first  glimpse  that  we  get  of  this  remarkable 
man  would  suggest  that  he  was  also  a  remarkable 
boy.  He  was.  An  orator  and  patriot  at  seven- 
teen, a  hero  at  twenty,  a  statesman  at  twenty-three, 
Alexander  Hamilton,  "the  young  West  Indian," 
as  people  used  to  call  him,  was,  indeed,  one  of  the 
world's  remarkable  boys.  Let  me  give  you  the 
record  of  what  was  done  in  the  world  by  this  boy 
and  man  who,  dying  at  forty-seven,  left  his  impress 
upon  the  world  as  one  of  the  greatest  of  historic 
Americans.  At  ten  years  old  he  was  forced  to 
take  care  of  himself;  at  twelve  he  was  confiden- 
tial clerk  for  a  merchant  of  Santa  Cruz,  near  to  the 
island  of  Nevis,  where  he  was  born ;  at  thirteen  he 
was  business  manager  of  the  establishment ;  at 
fourteen  he  wrote  a  description  of  a  storm  in  the 
West  Indies  that  set  people  to  talking ;  at  fifteen 
he  went  to  New  York  to  seek  his  fortune  ;  at  six- 
teen he  was  an  advanced  student  in  Columbia 


118  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

College,  taking  at  the  same  time  a  medical  course 
in  connection  with  his  other  studies ;  at  seventeen 
he  was  a  leader  in  the  debates  of  his  college,  and, 
as  you  have  seen,  a  popular  orator  in  the  public 
meeting  in  the  Fields ;  at  eighteen  he  was  a  political 
essayist ;  at  nineteen  a  captain  of  artillery  in  the 
Continental  army ;  at  twenty  a  lieutenant-colonel 
and  Washington's  aide-de-camp ;  and  at  twenty- 
three  a  battalion  commander.  At  twenty-four  he 
was  a  member  of  Congress ;  at  thirty,  framer  and 
signer  of  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States ; 
at  thirty-two  the  first  secretary  of  the  treasury ;  and 
at  thirty-five  one  of  New  York's  foremost  lawyers. 
At  forty  he  was  appointed  major-general ;  at  forty- 
two  he  was  commander-in-chief  of  the  armies  of 
the  United  States ;  at  forty-five  America's  leading 
living  statesman  of  that  day ;  and  at  forty -seven  — 
dead,  cut  off  in  his  prime  by  the  murderous  bullet 
of  his  relentless  rival  and  political  adversary,  the 
victim  of  an  unsparing  hate  and  of  his  own  over- 
strained sense  of  duty. 

Nevis  is  one  of  the  Leeward  islands  in  the  West 
India  group  and  is  the  property  of  England.  It 
was  so  when,  on  the  eleventh  day  of  January,  1757, 
Alexander  Hamilton  was  born ;  and  from  that  Eng- 
lish colony  the  boy  Hamilton,  when  he  was  to 
strike  out  for  himself  in  the  world,  came  to  another 
English  colony  — New  York.  Friends  and  oppor- 
tunities secured  for  him  education  and  advance- 
ment, but  he  became  even  early  in  life,  as  that 


ALEXANDER    HAMILTON.  119 

sudden  speech  in  the  Fields  shows,  a  warm  and 
enthusiastic  friend  of  American  independence. 

Indeed,  while  yet  in  college  he  was  busy  with 
pen  and  sword  ;  for  with  the  first  he  wrote  unan- 
swerable arguments  for  liberty,  and  with  the  other 
he  drilled  the  artillery  company  of  which  he 
speedily  became  captain. 

When  war  actually  broke  out  the  little  captain 
was  in  the  thick  of  the  fight.  He  led  an  artillery- 
company  at  the  battle  of  Long  Island.  He  fought 
at  Harlem  plains  and  Chatterton  hill,  at  New 
Brunswick  and  Trenton  and  Princeton.  His  dash 
and  gallantry  and  the  effective  manner  in  which  he 
handled  his  men  and  guns  early  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  Washington,  who  had  a  ready  eye  for 
warlike  and  promising  young  men  ;  and  Hamilton, 
in  1777,  became  Washington's  private  secretary 
and  aide-de-camp,  with  the  rank  of  lieutenant- 
colonel.  He  fought  through  the  Revolution,  led 
the  last  charge  at  Yorktown  where  Comwallis  sur- 
rendered, and  came  out  of  it  all,  at  twenty-five, 
Colonel  Hamilton,  one  of  the  best  and  brightest 
young  officers  in  the  American  army. 

Alexander  Hamilton  the  soldier  was  just  the 
sort  of  a  character  of  whom  boys  and  girls  who  love 
action  and  daring  like  to  make  a  hero.  With  a 
superb  dash  and  an  unfaltering  courage,  and  yet  with 
a  "  rapid-firing  "  brain  and  a  tender,  sympathetic 
heart,  he  was  the  leader  of  his  soldiers  and  their 
idol  as  well.  To-day  the  beautiful  battle  monu- 


120  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

ment  at  Trenton  stands  on  the  precise  spot  upon 
which  young  Capt.  Alexander  Hamilton,  of  the 
New  York  artillery,  unlimbered  his  battery  that 
cold  Christmas  morning  and  raked  the  startled 
Hessians  until  they  went  scurrying  away  to  defeat 
and  surrender.  On  the  green  slopes  of  Yorktown 
you  may  see  to-day  the  remains  of  the  redoubt  up 
which,  in  response  to  his  earnest  desire  to  lead 
the  assault,  charged  Col.  Alexander  Hamilton,  at 
the  head  of  his  battalion  of  light  infantry,  "  with 
an  intrepidity,  a  heroism,  and  a  dash,"  so  says  Mr. 
Winthrop,  "unsurpassed  in  the  whole  history  of  the 
war."  Up  the  redoubt  he  rushed,  filled  with  the 
joy  of  leadership  and  the  fury  of  fight.  Obstacles 
could  not  stop  Hamilton  and  his  men.  They  leaped 
over  the  palisades,  they  cleared  the  abatis,  they 
scaled  the  parapets,  capturing  the  redoubts  and 
driving  back  Cornwallis's  veterans  into  sudti  dire 
defeat  that,  soon  after,  the  white  flag  was  flying 
from  the  British  ramparts,  the  drummer-boy  beat  a 
parley,  and,  at  last,  with  their  bands  playing  "  The 
World  turned  Upside  Down, "  Cornwallis  and  his 
men  gave  up  the  contest,  laid  down  their  arms  in 
surrender,  and  the  victory  of  Yorktown  closed  the 
Revolutionary  war. 

'  As  tactful  as  he  was  sympathetic  was  this  same 
Colonel  Hamilton  —  for  only  he  could  secure  from 
the  pompous  and  puffed-up  Gates,  after  Saratoga, 
the  reinforcements  that  Washington  demanded  and 
Gates  held  back ;  and  only  he  could  soothe  Mrs. 


ALEXANDER    HAMILTON.  121 

Arnold,  when  the  shock  of  her  husband's  treason 
and  flight  drove  her  into  temporary  insanity,  or 
soften  the  rigors  of  a  just  but  terrible  fate  for  Andre*. 

Young  Hamilton's  impetuosity  and  offended  dig- 
nity, however,  sometimes  led  him  into  error  and 
mistakes.  But  he  who  crossed  swords  with  Wash- 
ington never  came  off  victor. 

"  Request  Colonel  Hamilton  to  come  to  me  at 
once,"  Washington  commanded  his  orderly  one 
February  day  in  1781,  as  he  paced  his  room  at  head- 
quarters in  New  Windsor,  engrossed  with  duties 
that  needed  instant  attention. 

The  orderly  hurried  with  the  message,  but 
Colonel  Hamilton  was  himself  busy  and  did  not 
at  once  respond  to  the  summons  of  his  chief,  who 
always  demanded  one  requisite  from  all  who  served 
him  —  the  soldier's  duty  of  instant  obedience. 

The  general  was  annoyed;  the  secretary  de- 
layed ;  the  general  grew  indignant ;  he  opened  the 
door  of  his  room,  seeking  the  tardy  secretary,  and 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs  they  came  face  to  face,  — 
the  slight,  boyish-looking  lieutenant-colonel  and  the 
massive  commanding-general,  —  great  men  both, 
and,  therefore,  jealous  of  their  own  actions ;  great 
men  both,  though  one  had  made,  the  other  had  yet 
to  make,  his  name. 

"  Colonel  Hamilton,"  said  Washington,  "  this 
will  not  do,  sir.  I  needed  you  and  you  de- 
layed. To  keep  one  waiting,  sir,  is  a  mark  of 
disrespect." 


122  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

The  dark  young  face  flushed  a  deeper  brown. 
The  hand  came  up  in  salute. 

"  I  am  not  conscious  of  it,  sir,"  said  the  young 
officer ;  "  but  since  you  have  thought  it  we  part !  " 
and  thus  they  severed  the  close  connections  of  years. 
Both  were  at  fault,  perhaps,  but  Hamilton  knew, 
even  though  his  offended  dignity  had  spoken,  that 
by  military  laws  the  general  had  been  right,  the 
secretary  wrong. 

The  general,  however,  regretted  the  young  secre- 
tary's hasty  action  and  did  not  lay  it  up  against  him. 
Instead,  although  Hamilton  refused  to  accept  his 
apology,  and  even,  in  a  fit  of  boyish  dignity,  repelled 
his  advances,  Washington  still  interested  himself  in 
the  young  officer,  and  would  not  break  friendship. 
For  Washington,  who  was  a  matchless  student  of 
men,  knew  the  abilities  and  worth  of  Alexander 
Hamilton,  and  would  not  be  upset  by  a  trifle.  Be- 
sides, he  was  great  enough  to  forgive ;  great  enough 
to  be  helpful  even  where  help  was  not  solicited. 
He  saw  that  his  ex-aide  was  given  a  colonelcy ; 
that  he  was  accorded  the  post  of  honor  at  York- 
town  ;  and,  years  after,  when  the  nation  was  in 
running  order,  with  Washington  at  the  helm,  Ham- 
ilton was  called  by  him  to  the  important  post  of 
secretary  of  the  treasury. 

How  great  a  part  Alexander  Hamilton  played  in 
putting  the  new  nation  into  running  order  the 
story  of  the  making  of  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States  tells.  Guizot,  the  French  historian, 


ALEXANDER    HAMILTON.  123 

declares  that  "there  is  not  in  the  Constitution  of 
the  United  States  an  element  of  order,  of  force,  of 
duration  which  Alexander  Hamilton  did  not  power- 
fully contribute  to  introduce  into  it  and  to  cause 
to  predominate." 

Gladstone,  the  great  Englishman,  also  declared 
that  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  was 
"the  most  wonderful  work  ever  struck  off  at  a 
given  time  by  the  brain  and  purpose  of  man,"  and 
the  idea  and  necessity  for  such  a  work  was  thought 
out  and  advocated  by  Alexander  Hamilton.  Even 
before  the  Revolution  had  closed  in  triumph  at 
Yorktown  this  wise  and  level-headed  young  states- 
man recognized  the  need  of  something  reliable  and 
binding  if  the  united  colonies  were  really  to  become 
united  States  —  a  real  nation.  When  he  was  but 
twenty-four  he  wrote  a  remarkable  letter  to  a  friend 
in  the  Continental  Congress,  and  in  that  letter  he 
outlined  many  of  the  provisions  that,  later,  found 
place  in  the  Constitution. 

But  it  was  as  a  financier  that  Hamilton  made  his 
greatest  record.  At  thirty-two,  Washington,  who 
had  studied  his  character  and  appreciated  his  abili- 
ties, called  him  into  his  Cabinet  as  secretary  of  the 
treasury,  and  in  that  position  Hamilton  not  only 
built  up  and  strengthened  the  national  credit,  he 
actually  saved  the  Republic  from  bankruptcy  and 
failure. 

He  fairly  created  something  out  of  nothing  — 
resources  out  of  debts  and  deficit,  credit  out  of  no 


124  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

credit.  As  Senator  Lodge  says  of  him :  "  There 
was  no  public  credit.  Hamilton  created  it.  There 
was  no  circulating  medium,  no  financial  machinery. 
He  supplied  them.  There  was  no  government,  no 
system  with  a  life  in  it,  only  a  paper  Constitution. 
Hamilton  gave  vitality  to  the  lifeless  instrument. 
He  drew  out  the  resources  of  the  country,  he  exer- 
cised the  powers  of  the  Constitution,  he  gave 
courage  to  the  people,  he  laid  the  foundation  of 
national  government,  and  this  was  the  meaning  and 
result  of  his  financial  policy." 

Daniel  Webster,  years  after,  in  his  eloquent  way, 
put  the  same  appreciation  into  one  famous  sentence 
in  his  eulogy  on  Hamilton,  pronounced  in  1831, 
twenty-seven  years  after  the  death  of  this  first  and 
greatest  secretary  of  the  treasury :  "  He  smote 
the  rock  of  the  national  resources  and  abundant 
streams  of  revenue  gushed  forth.  He  touched  the 
dead  corpse  of  public  credit,  and  it  sprang  upon  its 
feet." 

How  highly  Washington  regarded  the  abilities 
and  worth  of  his  former  aide-de-camp  and  some- 
what touchy  military  secretary  may  be  seen  from  the 
fact  that  he  retained  him  in  office  as  his  secretary 
of  the  treasury  for  six  years,  in  spite  of  Hamilton's 
wish  to  retire,  that  he  consulted  Hamilton  on  every 
important  question  even  after  his  retirement,  and 
that  he  would  only  accept  the  position  of  com- 
mander-in-chief  of  the  army  in  the  expected  war 
with  France,  in  1798,  on  condition  that  Hamilton 


ALEXANDER    HAMILTON.  125 

should  be  his  first  major-general  and  practical 
organizer  and  leader  of  the  new  army.  Upon 
Washington's  death  Hamilton  succeeded  him  as 
commander  of  the  army ;  but  war  with  France  was 
averted  and  no  opportunity  was  afforded  Hamilton 
to  display,  as  actual  leader  of  the  American  army, 
those  matchless  abilities  which  he  had  brought  to 
its  reorganization.  So  he  went  back  to  his  pro- 
fession —  and  his  death. 

In  his  profession  he  was  accounted  to  be,  in  1800, 
the  best  lawyer  in  New  York.  He  seldom  if  ever 
lost  a  case,  and  his  success  in  winning  cases  was 
so  great  that  it  was  the  popular  belief  that  neither 
judge  nor  juryman  could  stand  out  against  his 
pleading.  It  was  considered  certain  success  for 
plaintiff  or  defendant  to  be  able  to  retain  Alexander 
Hamilton. 

This  success  followed  him  also  into  political  life 
and  led  to  his  own  undoing.  For  a  great  man 
makes  strong  enemies,  just  as  he  creates  faithful 
followers,  and  Alexander  Hamilton  was  the  object 
alike  of  the  deepest  admiration  and  the  most  bitter 
hatred. 

The  sea  of  New  York  politics  has  cast  up  many 
a  questionable,  selfish,  and  designing  politician,  but 
it  never  was  dominated  by  a  more  unscrupulous, 
fascinating,  utterly  disreputable,  or  dangerous  polit- 
ical worker  than  Aaron  Burr  —  Hamilton's  relent- 
less rival. 

Aaron  Burr  was  nearly  as  precocious  in  his  boy- 


126  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

hood  as  Alexander  Hamilton.  A  daring  and  dash- 
ing soldier,  he  too  became  also,  for  a  time,  aide-de- 
camp to  Washington ;  but  the  selfish  soldier  and 
the  great  general  did  not  agree.  Washington's 
searching  eye  saw  through  the  veneer  and  glitter 
of  the  young  aide-de-camp,  and  he  had  neither  use 
nor  desire  for  his  services  or  companionship.  But 
step  by  step  Aaron  Burr  rose  until  he  became  vice- 
president  of  the  United  States  and  just  missed  the 
presidency  itself. 

Both  Burr  and  Hamilton  mingled  in  the  troubled 
waters  of  New  York  politics.  Hamilton  was  a 
Federalist,  a  Nation-lover ;  Burr  was  a  Democrat  — 
a  State-lover.  Both  were  earnest  fighters  and 
ardent  haters,  and,  when  the  nineteenth  century 
came  in,  Federalist  and  Democrat  were  fiercer  and 
more  unsparing  antagonists  than  Republican  and 
Democrat  to-day.  Burr  was  what  we  call  a  ward 
politician  —  up  to  any  dodge  or  trick  to  gain  his 
end;  Hamilton  could  do  nothing  small,  mean,  or 
underhanded  in  politics  ;  so,  in  the  contest  for  the 
possession  of  New  York,  Burr  won.  Thereupon  the 
quarrel  grew  still  more  bitter ;  but  when,  failing  to 
capture  the  presidency,  Burr  sought  to  be  governor 
of  New  York,  Hamilton  blocked  his  intrigue  and 
wire-pulling,  and  the  election  went  against  Burr. 

Then  the  disappointed  and  defeated  office-seeker 
determined  to  be  revenged  upon  the  "  little  lion," 
as  Hamilton's  friends  called  him,  and  to  drive  him 
out  of  his  path  or  crush  him  in  it.  Bold,  shrewd, 


ALEXANDER    HAMILTON.  127 

vindictive,  and  unscrupulous,  Burr  knew  that 
Hamilton  saw  through  his  designs,  fathomed  his 
ambitions,  upset  his  schemes,  and  thwarted  his 
designs.  He  set  to  work  deliberately  to  force  a 
quarrel  upon  Hamilton,  challenge  him  to  a  duel,  and 
kill  him. 

The  excuse  was  soon  forthcoming.  Something 
that  Hamilton  had  said,  criticising  one  of  Burr's 
actions,  was  at  once  distorted  and  taken  as  cause 
for  a  quarrel ;  the  challenge  was  sent  and  accepted. 

There  is  something  very  sad  about  this  part  of 
Hamilton's  tragic  story.  Hamilton  detested  duel- 
ling and  had  openly  denounced  it  as  useless,  unwise, 
unjust,  and  barbarous.  To  refuse  to  fight  a  duel 
could  not  have  made  him  a  coward ;  for  the  soldier 
who  fought  at  Trenton  and  scaled  the  ramparts  at 
Yorktown  did  not  need  to  prove  his  courage. 

But  when  Burr's  challenge  reached  him  Hamil- 
ton accepted  it  against  his  will,  fearing  lest  people 
would  misjudge  his  motives,  and,  perhaps,  interfere 
with  his  plans  for  the  good  of  the  Republic,  which 
were  ever  foremost  in  his  mind.  He  wrote  down  a 
statement  of  the  case  before  meeting  Burr,  in  which, 
while  advancing  a  strong  dislike  to  the  duel  as  a 
needless  risk  of  life,  and  the  welfare  of  his  family, 
he  said,  "  But  the  ability  to  be  in  future  useful, 
whether  in  resisting  mischief  or  effecting  good,  in 
those  crises  of  our  public  affairs  which  seem  likely 
to  happen,  would  probably  be  inseparable  from  a 
conformity  with  public  prejudice  in  this  particular." 


128  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

And  then  he  crossed  the  river,  and  on  a  beautiful 
spot  in  what  was  long  known  as  the  Elysian  Fields 
in  Weehawken,  opposite  New  York,  he  met  Aaron 
Burr  on  the  morning  of  the  eleventh  of  July,  1804, 
and  there  was  murdered.  For  duelling  is  murder; 
and  Burr  was  determined  to  kill  his  uncomfortable 
and  objectionable  rival,  while  Hamilton,  simply 
going  through  the  forms  of  duelling,  fired  his  pistol 
in  the  air. 

But  even  great  mistakes  have  their  uses.  The 
duel  at  Weehawken  killed  Hamilton  physically, 
but  it  killed  Burr  morally  and  politically;  for  it 
proved  the  greatest  error  of  his  selfish,  mistaken, 
and  unbalanced  life.  It  rounded  out  Hamilton's 
fame,  and  drove  Burr  into  treason  and  ignominy. 

More  than  this,  it  was  the  death-blow  to  duelling. 
When  Telemachus,  the  monk,  protesting  against 
gladitorial  combats  as  unchristian,  went  down  into 
the  arena  and  fell  a  victim  beneath  the  swords  of 
the  gladiators,  he  died  a  martyr  —  but  the  last  fight 
in  the  Coliseum  had  been  fought.  When  Alex- 
ander Hamilton,  protesting  against  duelling  as  un- 
necessary, barbarous,  and  unchristian,  boldly  faced 
the  deadly  pistol  of  Aaron  Burr  that  the  people 
might  not  misjudge  one  whose  chief  desire  was  the 
welfare  of  the  Republic,  he  fell ;  but  with  him  fell 
the  hated  code  of  duelling,  for  the  murder  of 
Hamilton  made  a  duel  forever  odious. 

A  great  man  was  Alexander  Hamilton.  To  be 
loved  and  honored  by  Washington,  to  be  hated 


ALEXANDER    HAMILTON.  129 

and  assassinated  by  Aaron  Burr,  would  be  in  them- 
selves proof  of  excellence.  But  Alexander  Hamil- 
ton was  born  to  be  great.  The  ten-year  old  boy  in 
the  cramped  little  island  of  Nevis,  who  had  already 
ambitions  and  aspirations,  and  told  his  playmates 
that,  when  he  grew  up,  he  meant  to  be  somebody  in 
the  world,  made  himself  really  "  somebody." 

John  Marshall,  greatest  of  our  chief-justices, 
ranked  Alexander  Hamilton  next  to  George  Wash- 
ington. Certainly  no  man  has  made  a  deeper  mark 
on  American  history  or  should  stand  higher  in  the 
esteem  of  the  Republic.  He  was  a  great  orator,  a 
great  lawyer,  the  ablest  politician  and  statesman  of 
his  day,  a  daring  soldier,  a  matchless  organizer. 
He  gave  the  Constitution  life ;  he  made  the  national 
treasury  a  power,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  the 
nation's  wealth ;  he  widened  and  dignified  the 
foreign  policy  of  the  Republic  ;  he  shaped  the  work 
and  planned  the  methods  of  the  new  nation.  He 
first  preached  the  leadership  of  the  United  States 
on  the  American  continent,  and  thought  only  of  the 
glory,  the  grandeur,  and  the  success  of  the  Republic. 

Alexander  Hamilton's  name  stands  for  success, 
and  his  remarkable  story,  short  though  it  was  and 
brought  to  so  tragic  a  close,  is  still  one  that  should 
inspire  young  Americans  by  its  brilliant  passages 
and  show  them  that  worthy  ambition,  rightly  pur- 
sued, brings  to  men  merited  success  and  enduring 
fame. 


X. 


THE     STORY    OF    ROBERT   MORRIS,    OF 
PHILADELPHIA, 

CALLED   THE  "  FINANCIER   OF   THE  REVOLUTION." 


Born  at  Liverpool,  England,  January  20, 1734. 
Died  at  Philadelphia,  May  8, 1806. 


"  When  future  ages  celebrate  the  names  of  Washington  and 
Franklin,  they  will  add  that  of  Morris."  —  David  Ramsay. 

THE  general  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  looked 
at  his  visitors  inquiringly. 

"  It  must  be  accomplished,  gentlemen,"  he  said. 
"  What  can  you  do  for  me  ?  " 

"  "With  money,  everything ;  without  it,  nothing," 
replied  the  head  of  the  war  committee  of  Con- 
gress ;  and  he  turned  an  anxious  look  toward  his 
associate,  the  Financier. 

"  I  understand  you,"  the  Financier  replied,  an- 
swering the  looks  of  inquiry  that  came  to  him 
from  both  the  general  and  the  head  of  the  war 
committee;  "but  the  amount  needed  staggers 
me.  I  came  here  with  a  few  guineas,  thinking 
to  lighten  the  immediate  burden  of  the  general, 
and  now  his  Excellency  confronts  me  with  a 

130 


ROBERT   MORRIS.  131 

scheme  demanding  thousands.  Where  are  they  to 
come  from  ?  " 

"You  have  never  failed  me  yet,  Morris,"  the 
general  responded.  Then  he  added,  with  a  smile, 
"  and  now  you  are  Financier  of  the  United  States. 
You  know  what  that  means." 

"  I  do,  indeed,  your  Excellency,"  the  Financier 
replied.  "  I  wish  it  meant  all  I  think  it  should. 
The  Congress  is  unable  to  enforce  taxation ;  the 
people  are  unwilling  to  support  the  Congress. 
What  we  need  is  a  strong  government.  We  must 
be,  really,  the  United  States.  I  cannot  think  of 
ourselves  simply  as  an  alliance  of  States  which  con^ 
tribute  only  of  their  good-will  to  a  common  and 
temporary  treasury.  We  must  strengthen  our 
confederation,  provide  for  our  debts,  and  form  some 
kind  of  a  Federal  Constitution.  What  we  must 
have  is  a  reliable  public  credit,  and  this  can  only 
be  secured  by  a  strong  national  union." 

The  general  nodded  in  approval.  The  head  of 
the  war  committee  looked  dubious. 

"  Can  we  go  as  far  as  that  ?  "  he  queried.  "  Are 
the  States  prepared  to  sacrifice  their  sovereign- 
ties?" 

"  They  must  merge  them,  sir,"  replied  the  gen- 
eral. "  This  contest  demands  sacrifices.  What 
one  man  does,  many  can  do.  In  accepting  the 
office  of  Financier  of  the  United  States  Mr.  Mor- 
ris, I  know,  has  given  himself  to  the  cause  we  all 
hold  so  dear.  He  has  undertaken  a  task  he  can 


132  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

ill  afford  to  assume,  with  all  its  perplexities  and 
difficulties,  but  I  know  he  does  it  willingly,  even 
if  it  be  a  sacrifice." 

The  Financier  bowed  his  acknowledgments. 

"You  are  right,  general,"  he  responded.  "In 
accepting  the  office  I  do  sacrifice  much  of  my  inter- 
est, my  ease,  my  domestic  comfort,  and  my  internal 
tranquillity.  But  have  you  not  done  the  same, 
general?  And  if  I  know  my  own  heart,"  he  con- 
tinued feelingly,  "I  make  these  sacrifices  with  a 
disinterested  view  to  the  service  of  my  country. 
I  am  ready  to  go  farther,  and  the  United  States 
may  command  everything  I  have,  except  my 
integrity." 

"  Spoken  like  a  patriot,  sir,"  replied  the  head  of 
the  war  committee.  "But  what  about  this  plan 
of  the  general's  ?  This  Southern  expedition  in  pur- 
suit of  Cornwallis  means  money  for  supplies,  sub- 
sistence, and  transportation." 

"  It  does  assuredly,"  the  general  said.  "  What 
do  you  say,  Mr.  Morris  ?  Will  you  see  that  these 
are  made  possible  ?  " 

"  Is  this  measure  inevitable,  your  Excellency  ?  " 
queried  the  Financier  thoughtfully. 

"It  is  inevitable,  sir,"  the  general  replied  deci- 
sively. "On  it  depends  the  cooperation  of  our 
allies  from  France  ;  on  it  depends  the  success  of 
our  imperilled  cause.  Gentlemen,"  he  continued 
emphatically,  raising  himself  in  his  chair,  "  I  am 
resolved  upon  it.  I  must  pursue  it  at  all  hazards." 


ROBERT   MORRIS.  133 

"  Then,  sir,"  said  the  Financier,  quite  as  emphat- 
ically, "  you  shall  have  the  money.  Though  Con- 
gress has  no  credit,  nor  any  possible  means  of 
furnishing  the  large  amount  you  will  need,  I  will 
see  that  you  have  it.  You  shall  have  it,  sir,  even 
though  to  raise  it  I  am  compelled  to  rely  on  credit 
—  my  credit,  solely,  if  need  be.  Thank  God  that 
is  still  secure !  Go  forward  with  your  arrange- 
ments, general.  If  you  are  prepared  to  risk  repu- 
tation I  am  prepared  to  risk  credit.  It  is  the  duty 
of  every  citizen  to  act  his  part  in  whatever  station 
his  country  may  call  him  to  in  hours  of  difficulty, 
danger,  and  distress.  And  such  an  hour  we  are 
facing  now." 

"And  we  can  face  it  bravely,  with  your  help, 
Morris,"  replied  the  general  solemnly,  but  with 
confidence.  "  You  will  introduce  order  into  our 
finances.  By  restoring  public  credit,  even  more 
than  by  gaining  battles,  we  shall  finally  reach  the 
day  of  absolute  triumph.  I  know  this,  and  I  felt  a 
most  sensible  pleasure,  my  friend,  when  I  heard  of 
your  acceptance  of  the  appointment  of  Financier  of 
the  United  States ;  for  I  know  you  can  regulate  the 
finances  of  this  country.  Do  you  remember  how 
you  helped  me  after  the  affair  at  Trenton,  and 
made  my  pursuit  of  Cornwallis  at  Princeton  pos- 
sible? I  shall  never  forget  it." 

"  It  was  a  hard  task,  general,  but  somehow  I  did 
manage  to  get  the  money  you  needed,"  the  Finan- 
cier replied  with  a  smile,  recollecting  his  labors  in 


134  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

that  time  of  stress.  "Why,  sir,  on  New  Year's 
morning  I  actually  went  from  house  to  house 
in  Philadelphia,  begging,  borrowing,  demanding 
money  for  the  necessities  of  our  victorious  army ! 
And  I  raised  what  you  demanded." 

"  You  did,  indeed,  Morris,"  said  the  appreciative 
general ;  "  without  your  help  I  could  have  done 
but  little.  I  remember  now  with  what  joy  I 
received,  that  very  forenoon  of  New  Year's  day, 
the  fifty  thousand  dollars  you  sent  me.  I  knew 
that  to  get  it  you  pledged  your  credit  and  your 
word  of  honor,  and  I  recall  now  the  gratification 
with  which  I  read  your  message.  'Here  is  your 
money,  general,'  you  wrote.  '  Whatever  I  can  do 
shall  be  done  for  the  good  of  the  service.  If 
further  occasional  supplies  of  money  are  neces- 
sary you  can  depend  upon  my  exertions,  either  in 
a  public  or  private  capacity.'  I  have  depended 
upon  them,  Morris,  and  never  in  vain.  I  do  depend 
upon  them  now.  With  your  aid  we  will  bring 
affairs  to  a  triumphant  termination.  My  course  is 
resolved  on." 

"  And  so  is  mine,"  said  the  Financier ;  and,  leav- 
ing the  camp  at  Weathersfield  that  very  day,  Robert 
Morris  returned  to  Philadelphia  and  upon  his  own 
individual  responsibility,  pledging  his  credit,  which 
had  never  been  questioned  or  impaired,  he  secured 
the  funds  with  which  to  equip  and  move  Washing- 
ton's veteran  army  for  the  hurried  and  masterly 
march  from  the  Hudson  to  the  York  —  a  triumph 


ROBERT   MORRIS.  135 

of  strategy,  by  which,  misleading  and  avoiding  the 
British  commander  in  New  York,  Washington  joined 
forces  with  the  French  allies  under  Rochambeau 
and  speedily  cooped  up  and  captured  at  Yorktown, 
in  Virginia,  the  trained  and  veteran  troops  of  Lord 
Cornwallis. 

But  even  this  final  victory  was  not  won  with- 
out another  necessary  piece  of  financiering  and 
sacrifice  on  the  part  of  Robert  Morris,  the  Phila- 
delphia banker,  the  Financier  of  the  American 
Revolution. 

It  came  about  upon  the  thirtieth  day  of  August, 
in  the  year  1781,  when  with  much  display  of  brill- 
iant uniforms  and  all  the  details  of  a  military 
entrance  into  a  friendly  town  there  rode  into  Phil- 
adelphia the  French  and  American  commanders, 
Rochambeau  and  Washington,  each  with  his  suite 
and  staff.  All  Philadelphia  turned  out  to  welcome 
the  distinguished  visitors  who  took  the  town  on 
their  way  to  Virginia.  There  were  countless  cour- 
tesies and  eveiy  sign  of  joy  and  welcome  that  a 
grateful  city  could  give,  and,  among  the  welcoming 
citizens,  rode  the  big,  frank,  dignified,  and  in  every 
way  charming  gentleman  who  served  his  country 
as  Financier  of  the  new  United  States  —  Robert 
Morris,  of  Philadelphia. 

At  the  City  tavern  Washington  and  Rocham- 
beau held  an  informal  reception,  and  then  the  lead- 
ing officers  of  both  staffs  adjourned  to  Robert  Mor- 
ris's great  house  to  dinner. 


136  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

But  after  dinner,  as  Morris  sat  with  his  chief 
guests,  Washington  and  Rochambeau,  discussing 
the  situation,  Washington  frankly  confessed  that 
the  success  of  the  expedition  against  Cornwallis 
wits  again  absolutely  threatened  with  failure  be- 
cause of  the  lack  of  funds. 

"  Thanks  to  you,  my  friend,"  he  said  to  Morris, 
"  the  money  pledged  for  the  expedition  provides 
its  supplies,  but  the  soldiers  are  hard  to  handle. 
Their  pay  is  far  in  arrears  ;  their  discontent  is  fast 
increasing ;  Congress  can  afford  them  no  present 
relief ;  the  Northern  regiments  grumble  at  march- 
ing so  far  from  their  homes ;  the  temper  of  the 
men  is  tried  to  the  uttermost ;  and  there  are  even 
threats  of  withdrawal  and  revolt.  Of  course,  with 
them  I  am  firm  ;  but  I  do  not  conceal  from  you  that 
I  am  perplexed.  To  fail  in  my  plans  on  the  very- 
eve  of  success  would  be  disastrous  to  our  cause. 
We  must  not  fail." 

The  Financier  stroked  his  ample  chin  for  a  while 
in  thought. 

"  The  treasury  ?  That  is  you,  my  friend,  is  •  it 
not  ?  "  queried  the  Frenchman. 

"  It  seems  to  be,  count,"  replied  Morris,  with  a 
rueful  smile.  "  Even  his  Excellency  would  seem 
to  believe  it  so.  But  see,  gentlemen ;  my  public 
funds  are  exhausted  ;  the  military  chest  is  empty  ; 
and  I,  to  this  date,  have  issued  of  my  private  notes, 
for  the  public  use,  nearly  six  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  Only  by  strenuous  efforts  have  I  been 


ROBERT   MORRIS.  137 

able  to  honor  these  notes ;  but  thus  far,  thank 
God,  I  have  done  it." 

"  And  you  can  do  it  again,  Morris,  for  the  cause," 
the  general  exclaimed. 

"  But  how,  your  Excellency,  how  ? "  queried 
the  puzzled  Financier.  "  As  for  myself,  I  have  no 
system  of  finance  except  that  which  results  from 
the  plain  and  self-evident  dictates  of  moral  honesty. 
I  cannot  see  —  Ah,  stay !  Your  Excellency," 
he  said,  turning  suddenly  toward  Rochambeau, 
"  your  military  chest  is  generously  supplied.  Lend 
me  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  help  the  general 
satisfy  his  clamorous  troops  !  " 

The  Frenchman  was  startled  at  this  sudden  and 
unexpected  request.  He  raised  his  eyebrows  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders  deprecatingly. 

"My  faith,"  he  cried,  "it  is  what  you  Ameri- 
cans call  rushing  —  this  !  It  is  —  audacious,  eh  ? 
To  ask  our  swords  and  after  that  our  gold !  What 
now  is  that  twenty  thousand  you  ask  for  worth  in 
your  American  paper  money  ?  " 

"  In  that,  oh  —  a  hundred  dollars  for  one,  at  the 
least,"  replied  Mr.  Morris.  "  While  Congress  can- 
not back  it  up  it  is  certainly  vastly  depreciated." 

"  And  you  would  ask  us  to  take  for  our  good 
gold  from  our  military  chest  paper  assignats  —  what 
you  call  bills  —  which  your  Congress  cannot  guar- 
antee?" Rochambeau  demanded.  "I  fear  it  is, 
sir,  as  you  Americans  might  say,  too  much  for  our 
good-nature,  is  it  not  ?  " 


138  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

"  But  I  do  not  ask  Congress  to  guarantee  them, 
count,"  declared  Morris.  "That  security  is  as 
poor  as  oar  paper  currency  to-day.  But  the  com- 
mercial house  of  Willing  &  Morris  have  never 
failed  to  keep  their  promise.  The  name  of  Robert 
Morris  has  never  been  dishonored  in  the  market. 
Lend  me  the  money,  your  Excellency,  and  I  will 
stake  my  private  credit  to  make  my  promises  good. 
I  offer  you  my  notes,  not  those  of  Congress." 

The  Frenchman  bowed  in  acceptance. 

"  The  security  is  beyond  question,  sir,"  he  said. 
"  On  your  word  we  can  squeeze  the  money  from 
our  store,  though  it  may  cripple  us.  For  even  our 
military  chest  has  what  you  call  a  bottom." 

"But  it  can  speedily  be  filled,  count,"  the 
Financier  assured  him.  "See,  here  have  come 
advices  that  the  admiral  of  your  fleet,  the  Count 
De  Grasse,  has  arrived  with  his  ships  in  the  Ches- 
apeake. He  has  money  on  board,  I  know,  and  Dr. 
Franklin  will  speedily  send  us  funds  from  France. 
He  was  to  urge  another  loan  there,  I  am  informed. 
Let  me  have  the  money  but  for  three  months,  and 
in  three  months  it  shall  be  repaid.  I  pledge  you 
my  word." 

"  It  is  yours,  my  friend,"  Count  Rochambeau 
replied,  and  at  once  the  money  was  drawn  out,  and 
Washington,  by  a  wise  distribution  of  the  loan 
among  his  needy  soldiers,  allayed  their  wrath,  set- 
tled a  portion  of  their  claim  for  wages,  and  put 
them  once  more  into  a  proper  temper. 


ROBERT   MORRIS.  139 

Thus,  once  again,  did  Morris,  by  his  personal 
promise,  save  the  cause.  For  in  three  days'  time, 
on  the  third  of  September,  1781,  with  martial  music 
and  with  great  display,  with  the  fleur-de-lis  and  the 
stars  and  stripes  fluttering  side  by  side  above  the 
allied  troops,  the  French  in  their  brilliant  uniforms, 
the  Continentals  in  their  well-worn  buff  and  blue, 
marched  together  into  the  city  of  Philadelphia, 
while  all  the  town  echoed  with  shouts  of  welcome 
and,  everywhere,  the  streets  were  thronged  with 
eager,  watching,  and  delighted  people.  Then  the 
allied  armies  marched  south  to  Virginia,  and  on 
the  "  heights  above  York  "  Cornwallis,  entrapped 
and  dispirited,  yielded  his  sword  in  surrender. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  to  the  timely  and 
generous  aid  of  Robert  Morris  the  victories  of 
Princeton  and  Yorktown  were  due,  and  that  to  him 
also  in  large  measure  was  due  the  success  of  Ameri- 
can independence. 

This  remarkable  man  —  Robert  Morris,  of  Phila- 
delphia —  was  an  Englishman  by  birth,  having  been 
born  in  Liverpool  two  years  after  Washington,  in 
1734.  But,  removing  with  his  parents  to  America 
while  yet  a  small  boy,  he  was  left  an  orphan  when 
but  fifteen,  and  at  once  started  out  in  life  "  on  his 
own  hook."  His  father's  business  had  been  in 
Oxford,  on  the  "  eastern  shore  "  of  Maryland.  But 
young  Morris  secured  a  position  with  a  prominent 
Philadelphia  merchant,  and  filled  it  so  satisfactorily 
that  when  but  twenty  years  old  he  was,  upon  the 


140  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

death  of  the  senior  partner,  taken  into  the  firm, 
which  then  became  Willing  &  Morris. 

This  concern,  which  grew  to  be  one  of  the  leading 
business  houses  in  the  United  States,  had  large  in- 
terests in  trade  with  England,  but  Willing  &  Mor- 
ris, enterprising  and  energetic  though  they  were  in 
trade,  counted  patriotism  as  something  higher,  and 
cast  in  their  lot  with  the  colonies. 

They  hoped,  however,  as  did  other  patriots,  to 
secure  justice  by  peaceful  measures,  and  when,  in 
1776,  Robert  Morris  was  sent  as  a  delegate  from 
Pennsylvania  to  the  Continental  Congress  he 
openly  opposed  independence  and  the  Declaration. 

When,  however,  he  saw  that  open  resistance  and 
revolution  were  the  will  of  the  majority  he  put 
aside  his  personal  opinions,  and  entered  so  heartily 
into  the  cause  of  the  colonies  that  Congress  placed 
him  at  the  head  of  the  committees  on  finance  and 
commerce,  intrusted  to  him  all  questions  of  ways 
and  means,  and  found  him  to  be  at  once  so  devoted, 
so  able,  and  so  patriotic  that,  as  John  Adams,  the 
stoutest  advocate  of  independence,  declared,  "  He 
has  a  masterly  understanding,  an  open  temper,  and 
an  honest  heart." 

As  you  have  seen,  Washington  relied  upon  him 
when  pressure  was  sharpest  and  "prospects  were 
most  dark.  When  all  others  failed  him  Robert 
Morris  could  be  depended  upon  ;  when  the  credit 
of  the  Congress  ran  out,  and  its  promises  to  pay 
were  scarcely  worth  the  paper  upon  which  they 


ROBERT   MORRIS.  141 

were  printed,  Robert  Morris,  first  as  commissioner 
and  chairman,  and  later  as  Superintendent  of  Fi- 
nance, —  or  "  Financier,1'  as  he  was  more  frequently 
called,  —  raised  the  needed  funds  upon  his  own 
responsibility,  even  upon  his  own  private  credit,  and 
actually  saved  the  cause  of  independence. 

The  patriots  breathed  easier  when  they  knew 
that  the  control  of  money  matters  was  committed 
into  his  keeping  as  Financier  of  the  United  States. 

"  You  are  the  man  best  capable  for  this  great 
work  of  introducing  order  into  our  finances," 
Hamilton  wrote  him ;  from  across  the  sea  in  Paris 
Benjamin  Franklin  sent  his  expressions  of  pleasure 
at  the  appointment,  and  added,  "  From  your  intelli- 
gence, integrity,  and  abilities  there  is  reason  to 
hope  every  advantage  that  the  public  can  possibly 
receive  from  such  an  office ;  "  while  Washington's 
satisfaction  at  the  appointment  we  know  was  great. 

Robert  Morris  had  made  many  sacrifices  even 
before  he  was  named  as  Financier  of  the  United 
States.  He  was  prepared  to  make  yet  more.  "  The 
contest  we  are  engaged  in,"  he  declared  as  he  un- 
dertook the  duties  of  his  new  office,  "  appeared  to 
me  just  and  necessary ;  therefore  I  took  an  active 
part  in  it.  As  it  became  dangerous  I  thought  it 
the  more  glorious,  and  was  stimulated  to  the  great- 
est exertions  in  my  power  when  the  affairs  of 
America  were  at  their  worst." 

A  man  may  work,  or  fight,  or  even  die  for  a 
cause  he  has  at  heart ;  he  may  contribute  from  his 


142  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

wealth  or  his  poverty  to  its  support ;  but  for  a 
business  man,  who  holds  his  word  sacred  and  to 
whom  his  credit  is  dearer  even  than  life,  to  delib- 
erately give  his  notes  or  his  personal  pledge  to 
raise  the  money  needed,  not  knowing  where  the 
money  to  meet  those  pledges  is  to  come  from  ex- 
cept from  himself,  is  as  patriotic  an  act  as  the  elo- 
quence of  Patrick  Henry  or  the  courage  of  Wayne 
or  Sheridan  or  Wheeler.  Robert  Morris  pledged 
his  word  in  behalf  of  the  cause  of  independence 
far  beyond  his  own  resources ;  but  that  word  was 
always  kept,  although  at  times  the  case  seemed 
hopeless.  At  one  stage  of  the  Revolution  his  pri- 
vate notes,  issued  to  meet  the  demands  he  had 
undertaken  to  fulfil,  reached,  as  he  told  Rocham- 
beau,  nearly  six  hundred  thousand  dollars,  while 
one  historian  of  the  Revolution  asserts  that  Robert 
Morris,  by  his  fidelity,  ability,  and  skilfulness  dur- 
ing the  Revolution,  "  saved  the  United  States 
annually  thirteen  millions  in  hard  money." 

He  started  the  first  bank  ever  incorporated  in 
America  for  the  purpose  of  serving  the  government 
through  the  deposits  of  Americans  who  had  faith 
enough  in  him  and  his  plan  to  become  stockhold- 
ers and  depositors ;  and  to-day,  on  stately  Chest- 
nut street,  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  the  splendid 
and  imposing  building  of  the  Bank  of  North 
America  stands  upon  the  site  of  the  original  Bank 
of  North  America  founded  in  1781  by  Robert 
Morris,  financier  and  patriot. 


ROBERT   MORRIS.  143 

When  the  Revolution  ended  in  triumph,  and  the 
new  nation  started  off  for  itself,  the  Bank  of  North 
America  was  made  the  financial  agent  of  the  United 
States.  Of  this  bank  Robert  Morris  was  never  an 
officer,  only  a  stockholder,  and  he  never  used  it  for 
his  own  benefit  except  as  any  other  depositor  or 
stockholder.  But  out  of  the  founding  of  that  in- 
stitution, fostered  by  Robert  Morris,  grew  the 
mighty  banking  interests  and  facilities  of  the 
United  States. 

Washington,  when  elected  president  of  the  new 
Republic,  thought  at  first  of  making  Morris  the 
secretary  of  the  treasury,  but  he  waived  the  ap- 
pointment in  favor  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  in  whose 
ability  he  had  equal  faith.  Indeed,  it  is  claimed 
that  it  was  Robert  Morris  who  discovered  and 
brought  forward  Alexander  Hamilton,  first  as  the 
head  of  the  United  States  Treasury,  and  again  as 
the  maker  of  the  American  Union  and  the  Amer- 
ican Constitution ;  indeed,  Bancroft,  the  historian, 
declared  that  it  was  Robert  Morris  "  who  gave  the 
first  vehement  impulse  towards  the  consolidation 
of  the  American  Union." 

And  yet  this  financier  of  the  American  Revolu- 
tion, this  patriot,  statesman,  merchant,  and  man  of 
personal  and  business  integrity,  passed  the  last  years 
of  his  life  in  prison,  —  a  prisoner  for  debt,  —  and 
was  only  saved  from  dying  there  by  the  kindly 
offices  of  a  friend  who  unearthed  an  old  claim  in 
which  Morris  had  an  interest,  and  by  making  it 


144  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

yield  a  small  income  for  the  old  patriot's  wife, 
enabled  him  to  die  at  home,  free  but  poor,  on  the 
eighth  of  May,  1806. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  disasters  of  Robert 
Morris  came  because  of  his  own  actions.  But  even 
.of  these  we  may  say  that  he  had  so  firm  a  belief  in 
the  future  of  the  great  Republic  he  had  helped  to 
found  that  he  took  "  too  much  stock  "  in  its  im- 
mediate development.  He  went  into  speculations 
in  land  and  building  lots  that  proved  too  slow  to 
meet  his  expectations,  and  saddled  him  so  heavily 
with  losses  and  obligations  that  all  his  property 
was  swept  away,  and  he  failed  for  three  millions  of 
dollars  —  an  enormous  sum  in  those  days  of  small 
things. 

"  You  are  over  sixty,  Morris,"  said  Washington 
to  him  one  day,  in  warning.  "  Don't  go  into  these 
speculations,  they  will  ruin  you." 

"  I  cannot  help  it,  general,"  replied  the  old 
Financier.  "  I  must  go  deep  or  not  at  all.  I  must 
be  either  a  man  or  a  mouse." 

When  the  crash  came  he  gave  up  everything  to 
meet  the  demand  upon  him ;  but  it  could  not  save 
him  from  a  debtor's  prison.  So  to  prison  he  went, 
an  old  and  broken  man ;  "  but,"  as  he  wrote  to  his 
friend  Hamilton,  "  I  am  sensible  that  I  have  lost 
the  confidence  of  the  world  as  to  my  pecuniary 
ability,  but  I  believe  not  as  to  my  honor  or 
integrity." 

Washington's    friendship     remained    steadfast. 


ROBERT   MORRIS.  145 

He  visited  his  old  friend  in  prison,  looked  after 
his  wife,  and  assured  her  of  "  the  affectionate 
regard  of  General  and  Mrs.  Washington  for  Robert 
Morris." 

The  best  of  men  make  mistakes,  and  it  is  not 
for  us  to  attempt  to  excuse  the  extravagances  and 
speculations  of  this  old  and  tried  business  man. 
These  now,  however,  should  be  forgotten  and, 
rather  than  censure  or  criticism,  the  affectionate 
remembrance  of  this  great  and  prosperous  Republic 
should  be  for  the  man  who  made  its  greatness  and 
prosperity  possible,  and  in  its  days  of  storm  and 
stress  stood  behind  it  with  his  credit  and  his  name. 
For  Robert  Morris  was  one  of  the  greatest  finan- 
ciers, one  of  the  greatest  patriots  America  has  ever 
produced,  entitled  by  his  virtues,  his  sacrifices,  and 
his  abilities  to  stand  in  the  front  rank  of  noble  and 
historic  Americans. 


XI. 

THE  STORY  OF  JOHN  *  JAY,  OF 
BEDFORD, 

FIKST  CHIEF-JUSTICE   OF   THE   UNITED   STATES. 


Born  in  New  York  City,  December  12,  1745. 
Died  at  Bedford,  New  York,  May  17,  1829. 


"When  the  spotless  ermine  of  the  judicial  robe  fell  on  John 
Jay  it  touched  nothing  less  spotless  than  itself."  —  Daniel 
Webster. 

"  THINGS  will  come  right  and  these  States  will 
be  great  and  flourishing,"  wrote  the  president  of 
Congress  in  prophetic  words  to  the  general  of  the 
army. 

The  date  of  the  letter  was  the  twenty-first  of 
April,  1779,  when  the  condition  of  affairs  in  the 
struggling  States  of  an  uncertain  Union  would 
scarcely  seem  to  give  much  cause  for  so  flattering  a 
prophecy.  New  York  and  Philadelphia  were  both 
in  possession  of  the  British  ;  the  Carolinas  had  been 
swept  by  the  invaders ;  and  Congress  was  powerless 
to  raise  money  or  to  maintain  itself  in  a  permanent 
capital. 

But  there  are  men  able  to  look  beyond  the  dark- 
146 


JOHN   JAY.  147 

ness  of  the  present  and  catch  the  first  gleam  of  the 
coming  light.  Such  a  man  was  the  president  of 
the  Continental  Congress  in  1779  —  John  Jay,  of 
New  York. 

He  had  not  wished  to  plunge  headlong  into  the 
horrors  of  war  or  the  uncertainties  of  indepen- 
dence. Up  to  the  very  last  he  had,  like  Robert 
Morris  and  other  peace-loving  and  conservative 
patriots,  sought  to  heal  the  breach  rather  than  to 
widen  it.  John  Jay  was  a  lover  of  law  and  order, 
and  he  felt  that  the  colonies  should  act  accord- 
ing to  constitutional  rather  than  revolutionary 
methods.  He  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  right  of 
the  majority,  and  hated  to  see  anything  like  un- 
reasonable haste  in  action. 

"There  seems  no  reason,"  he  said,  "that  our 
colony  should  be  too  precipitate  in  changing  the 
present  mode  of  government.  I  would  first  be 
well  assured  of  the  opinion  of  the  inhabitants  at 
large.  Let  them  be  rather  followed  than  driven 
on  an  occasion  of  such  moment." 

His  course  proved  wise.  For  while  impulsive 
patriots  like  Samuel  Adams  and  James  Otis  were 
for  instant  action  and  revolution,  other  and  calmer 
minds,  like  Jay  and  Morris,  were  for  thinking 
before  leaping.  The  English  colonies  he  knew 
had  always  been  possessed  of  a  certain  liberty  of 
speech  and  action,  and  the  struggle  was  to  pre- 
serve this  liberty  and  not  to  permit  it  to  be  taken 
from  them  by  British  aggression  or  tyranny.  So 


148  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

in  delaying  immediate  action  he  and  those  who 
thought  like  him  strengthened  the  spirit  of  liberty 
and  a  desire  for  union,  and  thus  helped  rather  than 
hindered  the  cause  of  independence. 

When,  however,  that  independence  was  decided 
upon  as  the  only  way  to  liberty  John  Jay  became 
as  strong  and  ardent  a  patriot  and  revolutionist  as 
any.  It  was  he  who  drafted  the  resolution  adopted 
by  the  "  Provincial  Congress  "  of  New  York  which 
declared  "  that  the  reasons  assigned  by  the  Conti- 
nental Congress  for  declaring  the  United  Colonies 
free  and  independent  States  are  cogent  and  con- 
clusive ;  and  that  while  we  lament  the  cruel  neces- 
sity which  has  rendered  that  measure  unavoidable, 
we  approve  the  same,  and  will,  at  the  risk  of  our 
lives  and  fortunes,  join  with  the  other  colonies  in 
supporting  it." 

John  Jay  had  considerable  in  the  way  of  life 
an/l  fortune  to  risk.  The  son  of  a  wealthy  and 
retired  New  York  merchant,  he  had  graduated 
from  Columbia  College  in  1764,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-one ;  he  had  then  studied  law  and  been  ad- 
mitted to  the  New  York  bar  ;  he  had  married  one 
of  the  charming  daughters  of  the  wealthy  William 
Livingston,  the  patriot  of  "Liberty  Hall,"  and 
was,  in  fact,  one  of  the  "  four  hundred  "  of  colonial 
New  York. 

But,  once  committed  to  the  cause  of  the  colonies, 
he  became  an  important  man  in  its  councils  — 
though  less  than  thirty  years  old.  He  was  a 


JOHN   JAY.  149 

member  of  the  Committee  on  the  Rights  of  the 
Colonies ;  he  was  one  of  the  committee  to  draft  a 
memorial  to  the  people  of  Great  Britain.  In  this 
communication  he  declared :  "  We  consider  our- 
selves and  do  insist  that  we  are  and  ought  to  be  as 
free  as  our  fellow-subjects  in  Britain,  and  that  HO 
power  on  earth  has  a  right  to  take  our  property 
from  us  without  our  consent." 

Elected  to  the  second  Continental  Congress,  he 
felt  that  his  duty  lay  rather  in  the  "  Provincial  Con- 
gress "  of  New  York,  to  which  he  had  also  been 
elected,  and  he  remained  a  member  of  both ;  but 
he  was  not  present  on  the  eventful  Fourth  of  July, 
and  his  name  is  not  found  among  the  signers  of 
the  great  Declaration.  He  strongly  approved  of 
that  immortal  paper,  however,  and  expressed  his 
opinion  that  "  our  declaring  independence  in  the 
face  of  so  powerful  a  fleet  and  army  will  impress 
foreign  nations  with  an  opinion  of  our  strength 
and  spirit ;  and  when  they  are  informed  how  little 
our  country  is  in  the  enemy's  possession  they  will 
unite  in  declaring  us  invincible  by  the  arms  of 
Britain." 

In  those  days  of  Tories  and  treason  the  patriots 
of  America  who  were  seeking  independence  had 
reason  to  look  well  after  their  neighbors  and 
former  associates  ;  for  even  a  friend  and  neighbor 
might  be  a  spy,  a  Tory,  a  British  sympathizer.  Jay 
was  at  the  head  of  the  Secret  Committee  for  the 
purpose  of  discovering  and  banishing  such  enemies 


150  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

within ;  and,  though  always  just,  he  had  need  to  be 
at  times  stern  and  unyielding,  even  though  his 
best  friends  were  among  the  suspected  ones. 

In  this  secret  service  he  had  occasion  to  make 
use  of  a  man  who  was  cool,  shrewd,  and  fearless 
and  who,  for  the  sake  of  patriotism,  acted  the  hero 
by  playing  the  spy.  This  patriot  would  appear  to 
be  an  ardent  "  king's  man  "  :  he  would  enlist,  serve, 
and  march,  apparently  as  a  good  redcoat,  but  really 
for  the  sake  of  getting  hold  of  important  secrets 
which  he  would  report  to  Jay.  The  British  trusted 
him ;  the  Americans  hated  him ;  often  he  was 
arrested  by  the  Americans ;  once  he  was  very 
nearly  hanged  as  a  British  spy.  Jay,  who  alone 
knew  his  secret,  remained  his  friend  and  finally 
gained  from  Congress  money  for  the  spy's  services. 
Then  he  sought  him  out  and  offered  him  a  cash 
recompense  for  his  sacrifices. 

"  Sir,  I  cannot  take  it,"  said  the  spy.  "  The 
country  has  need  of  every  dollar  to  prosecute  the 
war.  I  can  work;  I  can  get  my  living.  Never 
mind  any  money  for  me.  What  I  do,  I  do  freely 
for  liberty." 

And  when,  years  after,  John  Jay  told  that  story 
to  a  great  writer  the  incident  deeply  impressed  the 
listener,  and,  as  a  result,  Fenimore  Cooper  gave 
to  the  world  his  greatest  story,  "  The  Spy." 

John  Jay  could  not  remain  long  in  the  service 
of  his  native  State.  His  country  needed  him. 
He  was  to  have  his  share  in  the  work  of  impres- 


JOHN   JAY.  151 

sing  foreign  nations  with  the  importance  of  the 
United  States ;  for  after  he  had  displayed  his  wis- 
dom, firmness,  and  ability  as  a  bold  and  energetic 
Revolutionary  leader,  a  State-builder  in  his  prepara- 
tion of  the  Constitution  for  the  State  of  New 
York,  and  an  able  and  efficient  president  of  the 
Continental  Congress,  he  was,  in  the  fall  of  1779, 
sent  abroad  as  minister  to  Spain. 

He  was  given,  as  one  of  his  biographers  says,  a 
most  unattractive  position  — "  that  of  the  unrec- 
ognized envoy  of  a  country  little  known  and  less 
liked,  begging  money  at  a  haughty  and  penurious 
court ; "  for  the  Spain  of  1779  was  not  a  whit 
different  from  the  Spain  of  1898. 

He  was  sent  to  Spain  to  make  a  commercial 
treaty,  borrow  five  millions  of  dollars,  and  fight  for 
the  control  or  at  least  the  navigation  of  the  Missis- 
sippi. Not  one  of  these  was  Spain  willing  to  give. 
In  fact,  neither  France  nor  Spain  really  wished  to 
help  the  revolted  American  colonies.  Their  wish 
was  to  play  with  them,  to  help  them  just  enough  to 
keep  the  war  going,  and  thus,  by  crippling  and 
weakening  England,  to  wring  from  it  Canada  —  or 
at  least  Nova  Scotia  —  for  France  and  Gibraltar  for 
Spain.  So  John  Jay  and  John  Adams  and  Ben- 
jamin Franklin,  though  sent  abroad  for  the  good 
and  strengthening  of  the  Republic,  were  to  be  used 
by  France  and  Spain  even  as  the  cat  in  the  fable 
was  used  by  the  monkey  —  to  pull  the  chestnuts 
from  the  fire. 


152  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

But  the  trained  and  insincere  diplomats  of  France 
and  Spain  were,  after  all,  outwitted  by  the  honest, 
open  patriots  of  America.  Both  Adams  in  France 
and  Jay  in  Spain,  to  say  the  least,  were,  as  they 
expressed  it,  "  very  disagreeably  circumstanced." 
Jay,  indeed,  was  in  Spain  what  Woodford  was  at  a 
later  date,  persona  non  grata,  as  it  is  called,  —  in 
other  words,  not  wanted ;  he  had,  however,  the  satis- 
faction, in  the  end,  of  ignoring  and  humbling  the 
haughty  Dons  who  had  both  slighted  and  insulted 
him ;  for  when,  in  1782,  he  was  summoned  to  Paris 
to  join  Benjamin  Franklin  in  negotiations  for  peace 
with  England  he  was  able  to  conclude  the  matter 
without  reference  to  the  ungenerous  and  selfish 
demands  of  Spain.  He  lived  to  see  not  only  the 
navigation  but  the  ownership  of  the  Mississippi 
vested  in  America,  together  with  all  the  former 
possessions  of  Spain,  even  to  the  Pacific.  He  saw 
the  very  footing  of  Spain  in  America  wrested  from 
her  by  her  own  ill-treated  and  rebellious  colonists, 
until,  before  he  died,  only  the  islands  of  the  West 
Indies  remained  to  her,  themselves  to  be,  after  his 
day,  torn  from  her  by  the  uprising  of  her  subjects 
and  the  indignant  protests  of  the  liberty-loving 
people  of  America.  Truly,  time  works  its  own 
revenges. 

His  services  in  France  and  England  as  peace- 
negotiator  and  treaty-maker  were  invaluable.  Twice 
as  much  territory  was  secured  from  England  as  was 
proposed  in  the  first  overtures ;  the  fishing  rights  in 


JOHN   JAY.  153 

the  Atlantic  and  the  navigation  of  the  Mississippi 
were  both  acquired,  and  for  this  victory  of  diplo- 
macy John  Jay  was  entitled  to  the  chief  credit. 
Even  John  Adams,  one  of  the  chief  commissioners, 
frankly  and  cordially  acknowledged  this.  "The 
principal  merit  of  the  negotiation  was  Mr.  Jay's," 
he  declared ;  "  a  man  and  his  office  were  never 
better  united  than  Mr.  Jay  and  the  commissioner 
for  peace,"  and  when,  in  1784,  the  successful  com- 
missioner started  for  home  John  Adams  wrote  to 
a  mutual  acquaintance  :  "  Our  worthy  friend,  Mr. 
Jay,  returns  to  his  country  like  a  bee  to  his  hive, 
with  both  legs  loaded  with  merit  and  honor." 

Merit  and  honor,  indeed,  were  his  on  his  home- 
coming. His  native  New  York  gave  him  "  the 
freedom  of  the  city  "  in  a  gold  box,  "  as  a  pledge  of 
affection,"  and  his  desire  to  retire  to  private  life 
was  not  granted  by  the  Republic ;  for  he  found  on 
his  arrival  that  he  had  been  appointed  by  Congress 
secretary  of  foreign  affairs. 

This  was  before  the  days  of  presidents  and  Cabi- 
nets, when  the  affairs  of  the  States  were  still  con- 
ducted under  the  articles  of  confederation  and  by 
committees  of  Congress.  They  were,  as  we  know, 
very  unsatisfactorily  conducted,  and  were  altogether 
unfitted  to  meet  the  demands  of  a  growing  nation. 
So  the  secretary  for  foreign  affairs  —  much  like 
what  we  call  the  Secretary  of  State  to-day — had 
his  hands  full.  Jay  had  to  settle  the  treaty  troubles 
and  commercial  questions  that  arose  between  the 


154  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

United  States  and  other  nations,  and  he  had  some- 
times to  take  a  firm  stand  and  sometimes  to  be 
yielding.  He  knew  that  one  of  the  best  means  for 
keeping  peace  with  foreign  nations  was  a  sufficient 
navy,  and  he  urged  on  Congress,  again  and  again, 
the  necessity  of  building  ships  of  war.  Had  his 
advice  been  followed  the  cowardly  tribute-paying 
to  the  pirates  of  Algiers  would  have  been  stopped 
by  war  long  before  Decatur  put  an  end  to  it  with 
shot  and  shell.  "  As  between  war  or  tribute,"  he 
said,  "  I,  for  my  part,  prefer  war ; "  and  the  naval 
preparations  he  wished  to  put  on  foot  would  have 
made  the  American  flag  respected  and  feared  in  the 
Mediterranean,  and  maintained  it  as  the  banner  of 
a  formidable  power  far  into  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. 

He  soon  saw,  as  did  other  clear-headed  states- 
men, that  the  Articles  of  Confederation  could  not 
long  hold  the  States  together.  He  was,  therefore, 
a  strong  advocate  of  the  Constitution,  and  declared 
by  word  and  pen  that  •"  a  national  government  was 
essential  to  avert  dangers  from  foreign  force  and 
influence,"  of  which,  in  his  diplomatic  relations 
with  Spain  and  France  and  England,  he  had  suffi- 
cient and  depressing  experience. 

When  finally,  in  1789,  the  Constitution  was 
agreed  upon  and  adopted,  and  the  new  nation  was 
fairly  set  on  its  upward  way,  President  Washington 
showed  at  once  his  appreciation  of  the  ability  and 
strength  of  John  Jay,  for  he  offered  him  the  choice 


JOHN   JAY.  155 

of  any  office  in  his  gift,  and  Jay  chose  the  dignified 
and  exalted  office  of  chief-justice  of  the  United 
States.  He  was  the  first  one  to  sit  as  the  presiding 
officer  of  the  Supreme  Court,  and  Washington  felt 
the  choice  to  be  so  good  that  he  wrote  to  Jay,  "  In 
nominating  you  for  the  important  station  which 
you  now  fill  I  not  only  acted  in  conformity  with 
my  best  judgment,  but  I  trust  I  did  a  grateful 
thing  to  the  good  citizens  of  these  United  States." 

Jay's  attitude  as  chief-justice  during  a  troubled 
and  often  stormy  time  was  dignified,  judicial,  calm, 
and  determined.  Nothing  but  justice  swayed  his 
decisions ;  his  integrity  was  unimpeachable ;  his 
reputation  was  spotless ;  and  when,  as  the  increasing 
troubles  with  England  —  which  might  have  been 
avoided  had  John  Jay's  wise  advice  been  followed 
—  grew  more  threatening,  because  of  England's  re- 
fusal to  keep  the  treaty  obligations  of  1784,  Jay 
was  selected  by  President  Washington  as  the  one 
man  eminently  fitted  to  smooth  away  difficulties 
and  arrange  a  neutrality. 

It  was  neither  a  pleasant  nor  an  easy  task  that 
was  thus  laid  upon  him.  The  country  was  in  a  war 
fever.  England  was  acting  like  a  bully,  America 
like  a  fire-eater.  The  demand  for  war  with  Eng- 
land swept  away  all  caution. 

"  You  cannot  imagine,"  John  Adams  said  to  his 
wife,  writing  from  Philadelphia,  "  what  horror  some 
people  are  in  lest  peace  should  continue.  The 
prospect  of  peace  throws  them  into  distress." 


156  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

It  sounds  quite  like  the  Spanish  war  fever  of 
1898,  does  it  not  ?  People,  you  see,  are  just  as  ex- 
citable, just  as  unreasonable,  and  just  as  heedless 
of  consequences  in  one  century  as  another. 

But  there  are  always  some  calm,  cautious,  patient 
men  to  act  as  balance  wheels. 

"Peace,"  said  Washington,  and  he  was  black- 
guarded for  saying  this,  "  ought  to  be  pursued  with 
unremitted  zeal  before  contemplating  that  last 
resource,  which  has  so  often  been  the  scourge  of 
nations,  and  which  cannot  fail  to  check  the  advanc- 
ing prosperity  of  the  United  States." 

So,  when  Washington  wished  Jay  to  go  as  a 
special  envoy  to  Great  Britain  to  settle  the  dis- 
pute, if  possible,  the  chief-justice  knew  that  he 
was  accepting  an  unpopular,  even  a  detested  duty. 

"  So  strong  are  the  prejudices  of  the  American 
people,"  said  he,  "  that  no  man  could  form  a  treaty 
with  Great  Britain,  however  advantageous  it  might 
be  to  the  country,  who  would  not  by  his  agency 
render  himself  so  unpopular  and  odious  as  to  blast 
all  hope  of  political  preferment." 

But  he  accepted  it,  because,  as  he  declared,  "  the 
good  of  my  country  demands  the  sacrifice,  and  I 
am  ready  to  make  it." 

In  that  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  John  Jay  showed 
his  real  patriotism;  for  to  do  a  disagreeable  duty 
willingly  and  cheerfully  is  real  courage,  and  to  do 
it  for  the  public  good  is  patriotism. 

A  treaty  was  arranged  between    Great   Britain 


JOHN   JAY.  157 

and  America  by  which  some  things  were  conceded 
by  both  sides,  while  other  things  were  only  parti- 
ally settled. 

"I  will  endeavor  to  accommodate  rather  than 
dispute,"  Jay  had  said,  like  the  statesman  he  was  ; 
but  because  he  did  not  dispute,  because  he  gave 
up  certain  things  and  did  not  insist  on  others,  the 
critics  in  America  were  furious.  They  could  not, 
they  would  not  admit  the  truth  of  Jay's  noble 
words  :  "  This  was  not  a  trial  of  diplomatic  fenc- 
ing," he  said, "  but  a  solemn  question  of  peace  or  war 
between  two  peoples  in  whose  veins  flowed  the  blood 
of  a  common  ancestry,  and  on  whose  continued 
good  understanding  might  perhaps  depend  the 
future  freedom  and  happiness  of  the  human  race." 

In  the  light  of  events  at  the  close  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  these  words  of  John  Jay  at  the  close 
of  the  eighteenth  century  seem  almost  prophetic, 
for  it  took,  indeed,  a  hundred  years  and  three  more 
to  bring  about,  between  England  and  America, 
that  strain  of  good  feeling  which  is  at  once  wise, 
helpful,  and  practical. 

But  any  treaty  that  conceded  anything  to  Eng- 
land was  certain  to  be  met  with  censure  in  the 
heated  condition  of  public  feeling  in  America  in 
1794,  and  although  recent  historians,  after  a  hun- 
dred years  have  passed,  admit  that  "  Jay's  treaty 
was  a  masterpiece  of  diplomacy,  considering  the 
time  and  the  circumstances  of  the  country,"  the 
country  —  or  at  least  the  aggressive,  talkative  side 


158  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

of  it  —  violently  attacked  the  treaty,  and  assailed 
the  maker  of  it  with  the  most  fiery  indignation  and 
insults.  He  was  written  against,  spoken  against, 
almost  fought  against.  He  was  burned  in  effigy  at 
Philadelphia  and  New  York.  He  was  charged 
with  cowardice,  bribery,  and  treason.  His  friends 
and  apologists  were  howled  down ;  Hamilton  was 
stoned  in  the  street  for  attempting  to  defend  Jay's 
treaty,  while  even  Washington  himself  did  not 
escape,  but,  because  he  upheld  Jay's  action,  he  was 
abused,  he  said,  "  like  a  Nero,  a  defaulter,  and  a 
pickpocket,"  until  at  last,  in  one  of  his  infrequent 
passions,  he  declared  he  would  rather  be  in  his 
grave  than  be  president. 

But  even  as  Washington  could  not  be  moved 
when  he  felt  that  his  judgment  was  right,  so  could 
neither  censure  nor  insult  move  the  calm  dignity 
of  John  Jay.  President  Washington  approved 
and  signed  the  treaty,  and  Congress,  in  spite  of 
public  clamor,  passed  and  proclaimed  it,  and  "  Jay's 
Treaty,"  as  it  is  still  called,  is  now  conceded  to 
have  been,  under  the  circumstances,  the  best  that 
could  have  been  made.  It  certainly  postponed  for 
years  a  second  war  with  England. 

"  Calumny,"  said  John  Jay,  "  is  seldom  deniable  ; 
it  will  yield  to  truth."  In  his  case  it  did  yield  to 
truth,  and,  before  long,  America  was  ashamed  of  the 
injustice  and  short-sightedness  of  some  of  her  sons. 

Jay  returned  from  Europe  to  find  that  he  had 
been  elected  governor  of  New  York,  and,  in  spite 


JOHN  JAY.  159 

of  the  public  rage  against  him,  he  was  reflected, 
and  even  declined  a  third  nomination.  As  gov- 
ernor he  was  as  loyal  to  duty  and  as  faithful  to  his 
trust  as  he  had  proved  himself  in  every  task 
imposed  upon  him.  Influence  could  not  move 
him  nor  patronage  affect  him.  His  one  test  of 
fitness  was  ability,  and  when  one  day  an  associate, 
making  a  plea  for  an  office-seeker,  assured  the  gov- 
ernor that  the  applicant  belonged  to  his  party 
Jay  exclaimed  emphatically,  "  That,  sir,  is  not  the 
question  ;  is  he  fit  for  the  office  ?  "  That  should 
be  the  spirit  of  appointments  to-day.  When  he 
was  solicited  to  place  in  one  man's  position  another 
who,  though  of  the  opposite  party,  could  be  made 
useful  to  him  Jay  replied  indignantly,  "What, 
sir !  Do  you  advise  me  to  sell  a  friend  that  I  may 
buy  an  enemy  ?  " 

When  John  Adams  was  elected  president  he 
worked  hard  to  induce  Jay  to  again  accept  the  post 
of  chief-justice;  but  he  would  not.  For  nearly 
thirty  years  he  had  held  office  in  the  State  or  nation, 
and  he  was  weary  and  needed  rest. 

So  he  retired  to  his  farm  at  Bedford,  in  West- 
chester  county,  in  1801,  and  there  he  lived  for 
twenty-eight  years,  meeting  old  age  pleasantly,  as  a 
farmer  and  country  gentleman,  and  there,  on  the 
fourteenth  of  May,  1829,  he  died,  aged  eighty-four 
years. 

Up  to  the  time  of  his  retirement  from  office  at 
the  age  of  fifty-six  his  life  had  been  spent  almost 


160  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

entirely  in  the  public  service.  Independent,  honest, 
unprejudiced,  discreet,  truthful,  upright,  and  just, 
he  had  done  well  for  the  Republic  and,  as  one  of  his 
associates  in  the  law  declared,  "  Few  men  in  any 
country,  perhaps  scarce  one  in  this,  have  filled  a 
larger  space,  and  few  have  ever  passed  through 
life  with  such  perfect  purity,  integrity,  and  honor." 
That  is  a  grand  thing  for  one  man  to  say  of 
another.  But  in  the  case  of  John  Jay  it  seems 
to  have  been  well  deserved.  In  critical  times  men 
relied  upon  his  wisdom,  his  caution,  his  ability, 
and  integrity.  Washington  honored  him  as  an 
associate  and  loved  him  as  a  friend ;  and  his  pure 
and  spotless  life,  in  which  there  was  so  little  of 
selfishness,  jealousy,  or  injustice,  has  endeared  him 
to  Americans  as  one  of  the  best  and  brightest, 
most  wise,  and  far-seeing  of  all  our  American 
patriots. 


XII. 

THE   STORY   OF   JOHN   MARSHALL, 
OF  RICHMOND, 

CALLED  "THE  GREAT   CHIEF-JUSTICE." 


Born  at  Germantown,  Virginia,  September  24, 1755. 
Died  at  Philadelphia,  July  6, 1835. 


"The  Constitution,  since  its  adoption,  owes  more  to  John 
Marshall  than  to-any  other  single  mind  for  its  true  interpretation 
and  vindication."  —  Joseph  Story. 

THE  young  man  in  the  blanket,  standing  with 
his  back  to  the  blazing  logs,  said  cheerily  as  a 
knock  resounded  on  the  outer  door  of  the  hut, 
"  Open  up,  Porterfield.  You  're  butler  to-day,  and 
footman  too.  You  've  got  the  clothes  of  the  whole 
mess." 

The  officer  thus  accpsted  flung  open  the  door 
and  a  soldier  entered,  saluting. 

"  What  is  it,  orderly  ?  "  inquired  Porterfield. 

"  A   note    from    the    commander-in-chief,   sir," 

replied  the  messenger,  "  for  Lieutenant  Marshall." 

'  The  figure  wrapped  in  the  blanket  slipped  from 

before  the  open  fire  and  took  the  proffered  note. 

Opening  it,  he  read  it,  reread  it,  rubbed  his  chin 

161 


162  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

thoughtfully  while  a  quizzical  sort  of  smile  played 
about  his  fine  mouth,  and  then  said  to  the  messen- 
ger, "  My  compliments  to  the  general,  orderly. 
Pray  say  to  him  that  I  accept  with  pleasure." 

The  orderly  saluted  and  withdrew.  Again  the 
lieutenant  ran  over  the  note  and  looked  up  with  a 
smile  of  mingled  pleasure  and  perplexity. 

"  It 's  my  turn  to-day,  boys,"  he  said.  "  Hear 
this :  '  General  Washington  presents  his  compli- 
ments to  Lieutenant  Marshall  and  will  be  glad  to 
have  his  company  to-day  at  dinner,  at  headquarters, 
at  the  usual  hour.'  " 

"And  you're  going?"  asked  Porterfield. 

Marshall  nodded. 

"In  that  rig?"  queried  Lieutenant  Slaughter, 
from  his  home-made  bench,  where  he  was  carefully 
tightening  a  cloth  about  a  very  ragged  shoe. 

"  Well,  hardly,"  Marshall  replied.  "  The  general 
likes  full  dress  at  dinner,  you  know,  and  this  is  "- 

"  Undress,"  suggested  Porterfield. 

"  Precisely.  Now,  I  'm  not  going  to  decline,  as 
you  fellows  do  when  his  Excellency  honors  you 
with  an  invite,"  Marshall,  went  on.  "Some  day 
you  '11  be  proud  to  say  that  you  dined  with  Wash- 
ington, especially  when  one  has  such  an  appetite  as 
I  have,  and  the  Goodevrow  Onderdonk's  last  apple- 
pies  were  so  hard  that  we  played  football  with 
'em.  See  here,  boys,  I  'm  going  to  levy  on  each 
one  of  you  for  contributions.  You  '11  have  to  lend 
me  a  shirt,  Slaughter." 


X  ±j#& 


A    NOTE    FROM    THE    COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF,    SIR,"    REPLIED   THE 
MESSENGER. 


JOHN   MARSHALL.  163 

"  Can't  do  it,  Jack,"  the  lieutenant  on  the  bench 
replied.  "  This  one  is  n't  fresh  enough,  and  I 
gave  my  only  other  one  this  very  morning  to  one 
of  the  Rhode  Island  boys  who  was  mighty  nigh 
frozen." 

"  Same  here  with  stockings,"  Porterfield  chimed 
in.  "  I  'd  let  you  have  these,  Marshall,  but  I  can't 
go  bare-legged  in  this  weather." 

"Johnson  has  a  pair  of  stockings,  I  know,"  said 
Marshall.  "  I  saw  them  in  his  kit  yesterday.  No 
shirt,  eh?  I  reckon  mine  will  be  back  from  the 
wash  in  time.  Nice  state  of  affairs  for  the  lieu- 
tenant of  Taliafero's  (he  called  it  Tolliver's)  shirt 
men  to  be  in,  isn't  it?  That's  what  Dunmore's 
Tories  used  to  call  us,  you  remember,  Porterfield, 
when  we  chased  'em  out  of  Suffolk  in  our  green 
hunting-shirts,  home  spun,  home  woven,  and  home 
made." 

"  Oh  !  you  were  one  of  John  Randolph's  Virginia 
minute-men,  eh  ?  "  queried  Porterfield.  "  Raised  in 
a  minute,  armed  in  a  minute,  marched  in  a  minute, 
fought  in  a  minute,  and  vanquished  in  a  minute  — 
that 's  why  they  called  you  minute-men,  he  said." 

"  Well,  I  've  got  to  be  armed  in  a  minute  now,  if 
I  'm  going  to  dine  at  headquarters,"  said  Marshall. 
"  Come,  boys,  you  've  just  got  to  fix  me  up.  John 
Marshall  never  breaks  his  word,  you  know." 

So  in  that  snow-covered  hut  of  logs,  scantily 
warmed  by  the  log  fire,  and  less  scantily  furnished 
with  home-made  necessities,  the  jolly  mess  of  five 


164  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

shivering  and  scantily  clothed  but  healthy  and 
even-tempered  young  officers  of  the  Continental 
army  went  to  work  to  make  Lieutenant  Marshall 
presentable  for  the  dinner-table  of  the  commander- 
in-chief  at  headquarters  in  Valley  Forge. 

They  had  scarcely  a  complete  suit  among  them ; 
for  what  was  not  worn  out  they  had  given  away  to 
the  freezing  privates,  like  the  generous-hearted  boys 
they  were.  But,  by  careful  selection,  they  man- 
aged at  last  to  fit  out  for  the  "  banquet "  their  com- 
rade, John  Marshall,  of  Fauquier  county,  —  "the 
best-tempered  fellow  I  ever  knew,"  so  one  of  them 
declared. 

Captain  Johnson's  stockings,  Captain  Porter- 
field's  breeches,  Lieutenant  Porterfield's  waistcoat, 
with  John  Marshall's  own  coat,  his  own  shirt 
hurried  back  from  the  wash,  and  adorned  with  the 
wristbands  and  collar  which  Lieutenant  Slaughter 
had  made  for  dress  occasions  from  the  bosom  of  his 
own  well-worn  shirt,  —  these  made  the  young  sol- 
dier fairly  presentable ;  and  thus  equipped  in  bor- 
rowed plumage,  Lieut.  John  Marshall  ploughed 
through  the  snow  to  headquarters,  —  the  old  Potts 
house  at  Valley  Forge,  —  to  dine  with  the  com- 
mander-in-chief ,  and  to  receive  his  promotion  as 
captain  for  gallant  services  at  Germantown  and 
Brandywine. 

As  John  Marshall  was  at  Valley  Forge  in  that 
dark  and  distressing  winter  so  he  ever  was  as  a 
young  man.  "Nothing  discouraged  him,  nothing 


JOHN   MARSHALL.  165 

disturbed  him,"  said  his  friend  Slaughter,  who  lent 
him  the  collar  and  cuffs.  "  If  he  had  only  bread  to 
eat,  it  was  just  as  well ;  if  only  meal,  it  made  no  dif- 
ference. If  any  of  the  officers  murmured  at  their 
deprivations  he  would  shame  them  by  good-natured 
raillery  or  encourage  them  by  his  own  exuberance 
of  spirits." 

It  is  no  wonder  that  the  young  soldier — he 
was  only  twenty-two  —  was  liked  by  the  officers, 
from  Washington  down,  and  by  the  soldiers  in  the 
camp.  He  was  such  a  pleasant  comrade  that  he 
made  even  that  dreary  camp  lively  with  his  fun,  his 
stories,  and  his  continual  good-nature,  and  he  was 
chosen,  again  and  again,  to  arbitrate  the  disputes 
that,  in  a  cramped  and  snow-bound  winter  camp, 
were  often  breaking  out  between  less  adaptable  offi- 
cers. His  decisions  were  always  abided  by,  and  so 
wise  and  just  were  his  counsels  in  these  camp  quar- 
rels that  he  was,  in  time,  appointed  deputy  judge- 
advocate  of  the  army  at  Valley  Forge. 

This  judicial  fairness  and  ability  to  counsel  and 
advise  had  characterized  John  Marshall  from  boy- 
hood. His  father  was  a  veteran  of  the  French  war 
and  a  colonel  in  the  Continental  army,  who,  during 
that  terrible  winter  at  Valley  Forge,  shared  all  its 
hardships  with  three  of  his  seven  sons.  Of  these 
seven  sons  John  Marshall  was  the  eldest,  born  at 
the  village  of  Germantown,  in  Virginia,  on  the 
twenty-fourth  of  September,  1755. 

He  was  an  active  and  energetic,  if  sometimes  a 


166  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

careless  and  fun-loving  boy,  as  ready  for  a  game  of 
quoits,  a  foot  race,  or  a  wrestling  match  as  for  a 
drill  on  the  muster  field  or  a  tug  at  his  Latin. 
Spite  of  his  willingness  to  play  he  was  a  ready 
student,  for  at  twelve  years  old  he  knew  Pope  by 
heart  and  could  quote  by  the  hour  from  Shake- 
speare, Dryden,  or  Milton,  while  at  eighteen  he  was 
making  ready  for  his  own  bread-winning  by  study- 
ing to  become  a  lawyer. 

But  the  American  Revolution  called  him  from 
his  studies  and  sent  him  into  the  army,  first  as  one 
of  the  blue-shirted  Virginia  minute-men  and  then  as 
a  lieutenant  in  the  Virginia  line.  He  fought  under 
Washington  at  Germantown  and  Monmouth ;  he  was 
in  the  daring  dash  of  Wayne  at  Stony  Point;  he 
helped  drive  the  traitor  Arnold  from  Virginia  and 
then,  the  Revolution  over,  he  went  quietly  back  to 
his  law  studies  to  become  in  time  a  successful  Rich- 
mond lawyer,  a  member  of  the  Virginia  Legislature, 
a  member  of  the  governor's  council,  a  general  in 
the  State  militia,  a  member  of  the  Virginia  Consti- 
tutional Convention,  the  best-liked  Virginian  of  his 
day,  a  defender  of  the  new  Constitution  of  the 
United  States,  and  an  envoy  to  France,  when 
France  seemed  bent  on  blackmailing  the  United 
States,  but  could  only  force  from  our  envoys, 
Pinckney  and  Marshall,  the  famous  declaration 
that  America  remembers  with  pride  to  this  day : 
"  Millions  for  defence,  but  not  one  cent  for 
tribute." 


JOHN    MARSHALL.  167 

For  the  bold  stand  he  then  took  against  the 
artful  Talleyrand  the  American  people  gave  him 
great  praise.  "Of  the  three  envoys  to  France," 
said  President  John  Adams,  "the  conduct  of 
Marshall  alone  has  been  entirely  satisfactory  and 
ought  to  be  marked  by  the  most  decided  approba- 
tion of  the  public.  He  has  raised  the  American 
people  in  their  own  esteem;  and  if  the  influence 
of  truth  and  justice,  reason  and  argument,  is  not 
lost  in  Europe,  he  has  raised  the  consideration  of 
the  United  States  in  that  quarter." 

The  president  would  at  once  have  appointed 
him  one  of  the  judges  of  the  Supreme  Court,  but 
Marshall  declined ;  the  people  of  Virginia  desired 
to  send  him  to  Congress,  and  although  he  pre- 
ferred to  devote  himself  to  his  large  practice  as  a 
lawyer  he  finally  accepted  the  nomination  and,  in 
1799,  he  was  elected  and  took  his  seat  as  a  repre- 
sentative from  Virginia,  in  December  of  that 
year. 

Almost  the  first  duty  that  devolved  upon  the  new 
congressman  was  to  notify  the  House  that  his  friend, 
and  America's  deliverer,  George  Washington,  was 
dead. 

It  was  on  the  nineteenth  of  December  that  Mar- 
shall conveyed  to  his  colleagues  this  melancholy  in- 
telligence. Rising  in  his  seat  with  a  voice  low  and 
solemn,  while  his  words  almost  trembled  into  tears, 
he  said :  "  The  melancholy  event,  which  was  yes- 
terday announced  with  doubt,  has  been  rendered  but 


168  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

too  certain.  Our  Washington  is  no  more !  The 
hero,  the  patriot,  the  sage  of  America,  the  man  on 
whom  in  times  of  danger  every  eye  was  turned  and 
all  hopes  were  placed,  lives  now  only  in  his  own 
great  actions,  and  in  the  hearts  of  an  affectionate 
and  afflicted  people." 

Then,  in  a  few  brief,  eloquent  words,  heavy 
with  sorrow  and  filled  with  reverent  appreciation, 
Marshall  pronounced  his  short  eulogy  on  his  old 
commander,  leader,  and  friend,  closing  with  the 
resolutions,  prepared  by  "  Light-horse  Harry  "  Lee, 
but  effectively  read  by  John  Marshall,  and  now 
known  to  all  the  world. 

" Resolved"  the  resolution  concluded,  " That  a 
committee,  in  conjunction  with  one  from  the  Senate, 
be  appointed  to  consider  the  most  suitable  manner 
of  paying  honors  to  the  memory  of  the  man  first  in 
war,  first  in  peace,  and  first  in  the  hearts  of  his  fel- 
low-citizens." 

President  Adams,  who  held  the  abilities  and  ser- 
vices of  Marshall  in  such  high  regard,  again  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  make  use  of  him  in  the  conduct  of 
his  own  administration,  and  having  secured,  at  last, 
a  reluctant  consent,  he  appointed  John  Marshall, 
upon  the  adjournment  of  Congress,  in  May,  1800, 
secretary  of  state. 

But  even  this  high  honor  did  not  fully  satisfy  the 
desires  of  the  Massachusetts  statesman,  who  held 
the  Virginia  statesman  in  such  esteem ;  for,  in  less 
than  a  year  after  the  appointment,  President  Adams, 


JOHN   MARSHALL.  169 

on  the  thirty-first  of  January,  1801,  named  John 
Marshall  as  chief-justice  of  the  United  States. 

It  was  one  of  the  last  official  acts  of  John 
Adams,  and  as  has  well  been  said  of  it,  "  never  was 
a  more  correct  appreciation  of  fitness  shown." 

"If  President  Adams,"  says  Mr.  Magruder, 
"  had  left  no  other  claims  on  the  grateful  remem- 
brance of  his  countrymen  than  in  giving  to  the 
public  service  this  great  magistrate,  so  pure  and  so 
wise,  he  would  always  have  lived  in  that  act  as  a 
great  benefactor  of  his  country.  The  aged  patriot 
survived  long  enough  to  see  abundant  proof  of  the 
soundness  of  his  choice,  and  to  rejoice  in  it." 

That  this  opinion  is  borne  out  by  the  facts  every 
student  of  American  history  and  American  law 
must  agree.  "  He  was  born  to  be  chief-justice  of 
any  country  in  which  he  lived,"  one  lawyer  who 
heard  Marshall's  masterly  decisions  enthusiasti- 
cally exclaimed,  and  Professor  Channing  declares 
that  Marshall  "  proved  to  be  the  ablest  legal  lumi- 
nary that  America  has  yet  produced." 

For  thirty-five  years  John  Marshall  remained  at 
the  head  of  the  Supreme  Court  as  chief-justice  of 
the  United  States.  Impartial,  judicial,  courageous, 
clear,  discriminating,  just,  and  wise,  possessing 
alike  what  are  called  the  judicial  instinct  and  the 
constructive  faculty,  he  taught,  by  his  opinions 
and  his  decisions,  the  supreme  power  of  the  nation 
and  the  supreme  position  of  the  Constitution  of 
the  United  States  as  the  written  law  of  the  land. 


170  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

He  did  this  so  well,  so  forcibly,  and  so  decisively 
that  he  established,  as  much  as  any  other  American 
statesman,  the  value  of  the  Constitution  as  a  perma- 
nent authority,  and  the  position  of  the  nation  as  the 
head  and  controller  of  the  affairs  of  the  Republic. 

Through  all  the  changes  of  parties  and  presi- 
dents he  remained  the  head  of  the  greatest  legal 
body  on  earth,  in  a  position  which  he  appreciated 
so  highly  that  he  declared  he  preferred  to  be  chief- 
justice  to  being  president. 

And  yet,  notwithstanding  the  dignity  of  his 
position  and  the  greatness  of  the  responsibilities  it 
entailed,  he  remained  throughout  his  long  and 
priceless  service  the  same  simple,  sweet-tempered, 
helpful,  earnest  character  that  he  was  when,  amid 
the  snow-covered  huts  of  Vallej7  Forge,  he  kept  up 
the  spirits  and  lightened  the  depression  of  his 
comrades.  For  more  than  forty  years  he  was^a 
member  of  the  Richmond  Quoit  Club,  and  he  was 
as  keen  and  deft  a  hand  at  that  athletic  sport  as 
when,  years  and  years  before,  he  had  challenged  his 
companions  to  a  game  on  the  parade  ground  where 
Taliafero's  "  shirt  men  "  gathered  for  their  muster. 

In  all  things  which  he  believed,  his  convic- 
tions were  deep  and  his  loyalty  to  them  lasting. 
One  evening,  in  a  tavern  in  the  town  of  Winchester, 
in  Northern  Virginia,  a  group  of  three  or  four 
young  lawyers  were  discussing,  first,  eloquence,  and 
then  religion.  As  they  talked,  a  gig  drove  up  to 
the  tavern  and  a  tall,  bright-eyed,  venerable  man 


JOHN   MARSHALL.  171 

of  nearly  eighty  descended  from  the  gig  and  came 
into  the  room.  He  wore  his  hair  in  a  queue,  and 
was  plainly  dressed,  so  plainly,  in  fact,  that  the 
young  debaters  took  him  for  some  travelling 
farmer,  and  simply  nodding  their  "  How  d'ye  do  ?  " 
went  on  with  their  discussion. 

All  the  evening  the  talk  continued,  each  one  air- 
ing his  opinions  and  advancing  his  arguments  until 
it  seemed  as  if  the  advocates  of  Christianity  were 
getting  the  worst  of  the  discussion,  while  near  at 
hand,  a  silent,  modest-appearing  listener,  the  old 
man  still  sat,  as  if  deriving  alike  benefit  and  infor- 
mation from  the  words  of  the  heated  young  dispu- 
tants. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  young  fellows  who  had 
taken  the  stand  against  Christianity,  as  if  to  see 
how  convincing  his  arguments  had  been  to  an  out- 
sider, turned  to  the  old  man  and  asked  brusquely 
and  just  a  bit  patronizingly,  "  Well,  old  gentleman, 
what  do  you  think  about  these  things  ?  " 

A  more  surprised  group  of  over-confident  young 
men  would  have  been  hard  to  find  when  the  "  old 
granger,"  as  the  boys  of  to-day  might  have  called 
the  unassuming  traveller  of  the  rickety  gig,  replied 
directly  to  the  carelessly  put  question  of  the  young 
debater;  for  he  entered  at  once  upon  a  defence 
of  Christianity  so  clear,  so  forcible,  so  simple  and 
energetic,  and  yet,  withal,  so  direct  and  convincing, 
that  doubt  was  conquered  and  even  unbelief  was 
checked. 


172  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

The  young  men  sat  intent  and  silent,  with  no 
arguments  to  advance  in  rebuttal  and  with  only 
delight  and  admiration  for  the  speaker's  words. 

Still  they  sat  silent  as  the  stranger  rose  and  bade 
them  a  cheery  good-night.  Then  curiosity  got  the 
better  of  appreciation,  and  they  fell  to  wondering 
who  the  "  old  gentleman  "  was. 

"  Must  be  a  parson,"  one  of  them  remarked. 

"  Sure,"  assented  another.  "  He  talked  just  like 
a  preacher.  I  wonder  where  he 's  from  ?  " 

Just  then  the  landlord  came  back  from  lighting 
his  guest  to  bed. 

"  Who  was  the  old  party  ?  Where  does  he  come 
from  ?  Where  does  he  preach  ?  "  were  the  ques- 
tions that  greeted  him  from  all  parts  of  the  room. 

"Preach?  What  are  you  talking  about,  boys? 
He's  no  preacher,"  said  the  landlord,  with  the 
superiority  of  knowledge.  "  Did  n't  you  know 
who  it  was?  That  was  Judge  Marshall,  from 
down  in  Fauquier  county." 

The  young  fellows  looked  at  each  other  in  dismay. 

"  Judge  Marshall  ?  "  they  said.     "  Not "  - 

"  Yes,  but  it  was,  though,"  replied  the  land- 
lord, answering  their  unspoken  and  hesitating  in- 
quiry. "  That's  Judge  John  Marshall,  chief-justice 
of  the  United  States.  Reckon  the  old  gentleman 
knows  more  than  you  thought  he  did,  eh?  Oh, 
yes,  I  knew  him  all  the  time."  • 

But  while  the  landlord  laughed  aloud  at  their 
discomfort  more  than  one  of  these  young  men 


JOHN   MARSHALL.  173 

recalled  the  earnest,  convincing,  and  inspiring 
words  of  the  speaker,  and  never  forgot  the  faith  or 
the  fervor  of  Chief-Justice  Marshall. 

So  with  blended  humor,  pathos,  and  dignity, 
with  love  of  sport  and  strength  of  belief,  with 
simple  tastes  and  homely  manners,  but  with  the 
courage  of  his  convictions,  a  strong  mind,  a  mas- 
terly grasp,  and  an  intelligence  and  breadth  that 
lifted  him  above  his  fellow-workers,  the  life  of 
John  Mai-shall,  the  great  chief-justice,  kept  the 
tenor  of  its  way  unto  the  end. 

No  man  in  all  America  did  so  much  to  teach  his 
countrymen  the  meaning  of  the  Constitution  of 
the  United  States  or  the  real  scope  and  limit  of 
the  powers  granted  by  the  people  through  the  Con- 
stitution to  their  general  government.  His  deci- 
sions have  been  the  basis  of  opinions  and  arguments 
for  a  hundred  years,  his  constructions  of  intentions 
and  meanings  have  been  adopted  without  criticism, 
his  exposition  of  the  law  as  laid  down  in  the  Con- 
stitution has  been  accepted  without  dissent. 

Unbiased,  logical,  fair,  and  good-tempered, 
patient  through  all  the  intricacies  of  the  law  and 
calm  under  all  its  disappointments  and  delays, 
loving  toward  his  friends,  conciliatory  toward  his 
opponents,  few  American  lawyers  have  been  more 
popular  when  living  or  more  revered  when  dead. 

To-day  his  residence  in  Richmond  is  still  an  ob- 
ject of  curiosity  and  regard  for  the  visitor  %)  that 
beautiful  Virginian  capital,  while  the  splendid 


174  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

equestrian  statue  of  Washington  that  adorns  its 
tree-embowered  square  bears  upon  its  pedestal  the 
bronze  statue  of  John  Marshall  as  the  representa- 
tive of  Justice  and  as  one  of  the  supporters  of  the 
great  president.  And  this  is  right.  For  of  all  the 
men  of  his  day  there  was  no  one  who  earlier  saw 
and  appreciated  the  justice  of  the  cause  for  which 
Washington  labored ;  there  was  none  who  in  later 
life  led  his  countrymen  more  truly  along  the  path 
of  national  honor  and  national  strength  by  his  wise' 
and  unquestioned  counsels  than  did  the  great  chief- 
justice  of  the  United  States,  John  Marshall,  the 
Virginian  and  American. 


XIII. 

THE    STORY    OF    JAMES    MADISON,    OF 
MONTPELLIER, 

CALLED   "THE   FATHER   OF   THE   CONSTITUTION." 


Born  at  Port  Con  way,  Virginia,  March  16, 1751. 
Died  at  Montpellier,  Virginia,  June  28,  1836. 


"  He  was  not  the  sort  of  hero  for  whom  people  throw  up  their 
caps  and  shout  themselves  hoarse ;  but  his  work  was  of  a  kind 
that  will  long  be  powerful  for  good  in  the  world."  —  John  Fiske. 

THERE  was  excitement  on  the  college  campus 
and  within  the  college  walls.  From  out  the  plain 
building  that  was  at  once  dormitory,  chapel,  and 
school-room,  where  the  great  portrait  of  King 
George  the  Second  frowned  down  upon  the  pro- 
testing students,  black-robed  figures  streamed  out 
upon  the  college  green,  where  already  a  fire  was 
crackling  and  climbing  as  if  anxious  for  some 
accepted  sacrifice. 

The  sacrifice  was  evidently  ready.  For  as  the 
young  collegians  in  their  black  robes  formed,  two 
and  two,  and  winding  out  from  Nassau  hall  serpen- 
tined over  the  college  green  to  the  tolling  of  the 
bell  and  gathered  about  the  fire,  out  from  the  ranks 

175 


176  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

stepped  two  young  fellows,  one  of  whom  held  in 
his  hand  a  copy  of  one  of  the  abbreviated  and  un- 
attractive looking  newspapers  of  that  day. 

It  was  a  July  night  in  the  year  1770.  The  col- 
lege windows  were  open,  the  college  bell  was  toll- 
ing, the  college  spirit  was  aroused,  and  while  from 
the  doorway  the  well-recognized  form  of  the  college 
president,  good  Doctor  Witherspoon,  the  patriot  of 
Princeton,  looked  down  in  unacknowledged  but 
very  evident  sympathy  upon  the  scene,  the  black- 
gowned  student  with  the  paper  shook  it  aloft  and 
with  the  sentiment,  "  So  perish  all  foes  to  liberty !  " 
thrust  the  newspaper  into  the  fire. 

It  was  a  suttee  of  a  copy  of  "Rivington's  Ga- 
zette," in  which  had  been  published  a  letter  from  cer- 
tain weak-kneed  and  unpatriotic  merchants  of  New 
York  who  had  proved  false  to  their  pledge  under 
the  non-importation  agreement  and  had  written  to 
the  merchants  of  Philadelphia  requesting  them  to 
act  with  them  against  the  Non-Importation  Act, 
which,  so  these  thrifty  merchants  thought,  would 
be  a  boon  to  trade,  to  profit,  and  to  security. 

But  the  students  of  Princeton  College  were  "  true 
blue"  patriots.  Some  of  them  already  belonged 
to  the  aggressive  "  Sons  of  Liberty,"  and  all  of 
them  were  ready  to  stand  forth  as  friend  and 
follower  of  independence,  the  cause  to  which  their 
preceptor,  good  Doctor  Witherspoon,  was  already 
committed,  and  for  which  he  taught  his  students 
to  love  and  to  labor  —  even  to  die. 


JAMES    MADISON.  177 

Earnest  and  enthusiastic  in  this  boyish  revenge 
upon  a  time-serving  and  unpatriotic  act  one  young 
Princetonian  was  foremost  in  his  groans  for  the 
merchants  and  his  cheers  for  the  Sons  of  Liberty, 
President  Witherspoon,  and  non-importation. 

He  was  a  slight-built,  not  over  strong,  keen-eyed 
young  fellow  of  nineteen,  unused  to  demonstra- 
tions and  unskilled  in  hurrahs.  But  oii  this  night 
his  enthusiasm  mastered  him,  and  quiet,  unobtru- 
sive, serious  and  often  solemn  James  Madison,  the 
Virginia  boy,  was  as  vociferous  as  the  rest. 

He  never  was  much  of  a  real  boy  —  the  restless, 
impulsive,  active,  careless  college  boy  most  familiar 
to  us.  Indeed,  one  of  his  biographers  declares  that 
he  seems  never  to  have  been  a  young  man.  But 
such  an  occasion  as  this  stirred  him  to  enthusiasm 
as  few  occurrences  did,  so  that  one  can  scarcely  tell, 
as  he  reads  his  letter  home,  giving  an  account  of  the 
student's  bonfire,  which  stirred  and  inspired  James 
Madison  most  —  the  tolling  bell,  the  solemn  march 
and  the  parading  black  robes  in  the  college  yard, 
or  the  practical  and  exuberant  patriotism  of  the 
college  boys  of  that  year  of  1770,  when  they  were, 
"  all  of  them,  dressed  in  American  cloth." 

Indeed,  the  studious,  serious-minded,  and  sober- 
faced  young  Virginian,  who  seems  to  have  in- 
dulged in  few  laughs  and  less  jokes  in  all  his  busy 
life,  interested  himself,  while  little  more  than  a  boy, 
in  the  great  questions  that  were  disturbing  Amer- 
ica and  upsetting  the  world  in  the  last  quarter  of 


178  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

the  eighteenth  century.  For  we  come  upon  such 
a  letter  as  this,  written  from  his  quiet  country  home 
to  a  boy  friend,  left  behind  at  Princeton,  when  the 
writer  was  but  a  very  young  man : 

"  We  are  very  busy  at  present  in  raising  men 
and  procuring  the  necessaries  for  defending  our- 
selves and  our  friends,  in  case  of  a  sudden  inva- 
sion. The  extensiveness  of  the  demands  of  the 
Congress,  and  the  pride  of  the  British  nation,  to- 
gether with  the  wickedness  of  the  present  minis- 
try, seem,  in  the  judgment  of  all  politicians,  to 
require  a  preparation  for  extreme  events." 

When  these  "  extreme  events "  came  at  last, 
young  James  Madison  was  not  only  prepared  for 
them,  he  bore  a  part  in  them.  It  was  not  the  part 
of  a  soldier,  for  he  was  weak  in  body  and  poor  in 
health ;  indeed,  we  find  him  in  a  letter  to  a  young 
friend  lamenting  that  while  that  friend  had  "  health, 
youth,  fire,  and  genius  to  bear  you  along  the  high 
track  of  public  life,"  he,  James  JVf adison,  was  "  too 
dull  and  infirm  to  look  for  any  extraordinary  things 
in  this  world,"  and  could  not  "  expect  a  long  or 
healthy  life."  And  yet  that  "  dull  and  infirm  " 
young  invalid  lived  for  more  than  sixty  years  after 
that  letter  was  written,  and  became  one  of  ttie  most 
active  and  foremost  men  of  his  day  and  generation. 

But  if  he  could  not  bear  the  part  of  a  soldier  at 
the  front  he  did,  early  in  his  career,  assume  the 
work  of  the  statesman.  When  but  twenty-three 
years  old  he  was  appointed  a  member  of  the  Virginia 


JAMES    MADISON.  179 

Committee  of  Safety  of  1774  —  the  youngest  mem- 
ber of  that  important  body,  and  in  1776  he  was 
elected  a  delegate  to  the  Virginia  Convention,  where 
he  helped  prepare  the  famous  "Bill  of  Rights," 
which  placed  Virginia  beside  Massachusetts  in 
the  opening  struggle  with  England,  and,  what  is  al- 
most as  important  in  Madison's  story,  where  he  first 
met  the  man  who  through  very  nearly  all  the  years 
of  Madison's  life  was  to  him  as  "  guide,  philosopher, 
and  friend  "  —  Thomas  Jefferson,  of  Monticello. 

The  Bill  of  Rights  was,  in  effect,  a  declaration 
of  what  the  proposed  State  of  Virginia  meant  to  do 
for  the  comfort  and  freedom  of  its  people,  and  in 
it  James  Madison  proposed  and  prepared  the  clause 
providing  for  toleration  in  the  free  exercise  of 
religion  to  which  all  men  are  equally  entitled  ac- 
cording to  the  dictates  of  conscience  —  not  a  bad 
way  for  a  young  statesman  to  begin  his  public  work. 

Before  he  was  thirty  years  old,  in  December, 
1779,  James  Madison  was  elected  by  the  Legislature 
of  Virginia  as  one  of  its  delegates  to  the  Continental 
Congress,  and  thus  began  his  long  career  of  public 
service  of  over  forty  years,  —  a  service  that  closed 
only  with  his  retirement  from  the  highest  office  in 
the  gift  of  the  United  States. 

His  congressional  life  filled  many  busy  years, 
and  his  services  were  of  lasting  value  to  the  Re- 
public. It  was  he  who  stood  out  longest  and 
strongest  against  the  encroachments  of  Spain,  and 
demanded  from  that  procrastinating  nation  the 


180  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

rights  to  navigate  the  Mississippi ;  it  was  he  who 
declared  in  Congress  that  the  demands  and  desires 
of  constituents  should  not  be  binding  upon  their 
representatives  in  Congress  ;  it  was  he  who  declared 
that  "  the  existing  Confederacy  is  tottering  to  its 
foundation,"  and  urged  a  speedy  binding  of  all  the 
States  together  in  a  firm  national  government  — 
"  the  Union  before  the  States  and  for  the  sake  of 
the  States ; "  it  was  he  who  proposed  a  certain  plan 
of  union  out  of  which  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States  was  finally  evolved,  and  this  proposition, 
linked  to  his  careful  report  of  the  proceedings  of  the 
convention  which  made  the  Constitution,  has  caused 
him  to  divide  with  Alexander  Hamilton  the  title  of 
"  Father  of  the  Constitution."  It  was  James  Madi- 
son who,  joined  with  Hamilton  and  Jay,  wrote  a 
number  of  carefully  prepared,  thoughtful,  and  ex- 
haustive papers  on  the  nature  and  meaning  of  the 
Federal  Constitution,  as  the  great  document  was 
often  called  ;  these  papers  were  collected  in  a  volume 
called  "  The  Federalist "  —  a  treatise  which  is,  to- 
day, according  to  Professor  Channing,  "  the  best 
commentary  on  the  Constitution  and  one  which 
should  be  studied  by  all  who  desire  to  have  a  through 
comprehension  of  its  provisions." 

It  was  James  Madison  who,  when  elected  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Virginia  Constitutional  Convention, 
fought  through  to  adoption  the  question  of  accept- 
ing and  abiding  by  the  Union  and  the  Constitu- 
tion in  the  face  of  the  opposition  of  Patrick  Henry 


JAMES    MADISON.  181 

and  other  leading  Virginians  who  did  not  believe 
in  the  Union  and  would  not  agree  to  the  Constitu- 
tion. He  won  his  victory,  and  Virginia,  by  a 
majority  of  ten,  adopted  the  Constitution  —  that 
Constitution  of  the  United  States  under  which  we 
live  to-day,  and  of  which  James  Madison  said : 
"  Every  man  who  loves  peace,  every  man  who  loves 
his  country,  every  man  Who  loves  liberty,  ought  to 
have  this  Constitution  ever  before  his  eyes,  that  he 
may  cherish  in  his  heart  a  due  attachment  to  the 
Union  of  America  and  be  able  to  set  a  due  value 
on  the  means  of  preserving  it." 

In  this  work  of  suggesting,  framing,  defending, 
and  establishing  the  immortal  Constitution  of  the 
United  States  James  Madison  did  the  best  and 
greatest  service  of  his  life.  He  shaped  and  set  in 
action  the  party  which  advocated,  championed,  and 
established  the  Constitution,  —  the  party  of  Wash- 
ington and  Hamilton,  —  the  party  to  which  he  gave 
the  name  of  "  Federalist,"  and  of  which  he  was  es- 
teemed the  father.  Indeed,  if  he  is  not  to  be  reck- 
oned the  "  Father  of  the  Constitution  "  itself,  he  is 
at  least  the  creator  of  the  Federalist  party.  In  this 
Madison  made  his  place  in  the  history  of  the 
Republic.  But  after  the  adoption  of  the  Consti- 
tution Madison  became  more  and  more  influenced 
by  Thomas  Jefferson,  and  gradually  went  over  to 
his  side  as  one  who  was  the  leader  in  his  State,  and 
therefore  the  one  to  whom  he  should  be  loyal  as  a 
Virginian  rather  than  an  American.  This  mis- 


182  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

taken  loyalty  went  so  far  that,  at  last,  James  Mad- 
ison left  the  party  of  Washington  and  Hamilton, 
became  an  anti-Federalist,  or  rather  a  Jeffersoiiian, 
—  a  follower  and  ally  of  the  great  democrat.  He 
served  in  Jefferson's  administration  as  secretary  of 
state,  and  succeeded  him  as  president  of  the  United 
States,  to  which  high  office  he  was  twice  elected. 

It  was  during  his  service  as  president,  from  March 
4,  1809,  to  March  4,  1817,  that  the  Republic  went 
through  the  strain  and  stress  of  the  second  war 
with  England,  called  the  war  of  1812,  as  unnec- 
essary and  as  avoidable  as  the  war  with  Spain 
in  1898 ;  like  that  war,  too,  it  scored  its  greatest 
glories  on  the  sea.  It  was  a  leaderless  war  both 
as  regards  the  president  who  should  have  controlled 
and  the  generals  who  should  have  conducted  it; 
for  only  the  brilliant  but  needless  victory  of  Jack- 
son at  New  Orleans  remains  with  us  as  the  one 
military  glory  of  that  three-years'  war  of  1812. 
But  on  the  sea  it  was  memorable  in  the  naval 
annals  of  America.  The  names  of  Hull  and  Perry 
and  Lawrence  shed  lustre  on  an  otherwise  unsatis- 
factory war,  in  which  those  famous  sea-fighters  were 
the  forerunners  in  bravery,  brilliancy,  and  success  of 
Farragut  and  Dewey  and  Sampson  and  Schley. 

Like  President  McKinley  in  1898,  President 
Madison  in  1812  neither  desired  nor  advocated 
war,  but,  instead,  worked  for  peace,  only  to  be  forced 
into  war  by  an  unfortunate  naval  disaster,  the  clam- 
ors of  the  war-shouters,  and  the  action  of  a  belliger- 


JAMES    MADISON.  183 

ent  Congress.  So  far,  the  story  of  the  two  wars 
runs  parallel;  but,  unlike  President  McKinley, 
President  Madison  was  not  equal  to  the  situation, 
nor  was  he  designed  by  nature  or  disposition,  by 
training  or  temperament,  to  be  the  conductor  of  a 
war  or  the  commander-in-cliief  of  armies  and 
navies.  Able  and  amiable,  designed  to  make 
laws  rather  than  to  execute  them,  he  found  himself 
plunged  into  a  war  which  he  neither  desired  nor 
approved,  and  was  forced,  contrary  to  his  own 
wishes,  to  conduct  it  either  to  failure  or  success. 
Badly  advised  and  poorly  served ;  invading  Can- 
ada when  he  should  have  strengthened  his  own 
defences ;  careless  of  naval  operations  and  unable 
to  understand  those  on  land,  Madison  scarcely 
made  a  success  as  a  war  president.  In  1898,  too, 
the  whole  country  was  united  in  action  when  the 
necessity  for  action  came  ;  but  in  1812,  besides  an 
invading  enemy,  Madison  had  to  face  and  strive 
against,  within  the  borders  of  the  Republic,  a  large, 
persistent,  and  influential  opposition  to  what  was 
called  "  Mr.  Madison's  War."  The  New  England 
States,  while  bearing  their  share,  as  required  by  law, 
in  the  conflict  with  England,  regarded  the  war  with 
absolute  disfavor  and  open  discontent.  Their  har- 
bors were  unprotected,  their  trade  was  ruined  by 
harsh  methods,  their  men  of  affairs  had  no  confi- 
dence in  those  in  charge  of  the  war,  and,  finally,  the 
representatives  of  New  England  assembled  in  con- 
vention at  Hartford,  in  Connecticut,  threatened  to 


184  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

take  matters  into  their  own  hands,  and  even  to  set 
up  the  authority  of  the  States  against  that  of  the 
government.  But  before  anything  could  be  decided 
upon  the  war  came  to  a  sudden  end,  Jackson's  vic- 
tory at  New  Orleans  gave  a  tinge  of  success  and 
glory  to  the  close  of  the  strife,  and  the  New  England 
"  objectors  "  found  themselves  suddenly  in  a  ridic- 
ulous minority.  Then  James  Madison,  president, 
completed  the  Treaty  of  Ghent,  which  brought 
peace  to  his  country,  and,  "  of  all  men,  had,"  as  Mr. 
Gay  says,  "  the  most  reason  to  be  glad  for  a  safe  de- 
liverance from  the  consequences  of  his  own  want  of 
foresight  and  want  of  firmness." 

During  the  war  the  British  had  made  a  descent 
upon  Washington,  burned  the  public  buildings,  and 
sent  president,  Cabinet,  and  military  "  defenders  " 
fleeing  for  their  lives,  when  proper  precautions, 
taken  in  time,  might  have  prevented  alike  the  in- 
vasion and  destruction.  But  such  disasters  are  the 
fortunes  of  war,  and  Madison  should  not  be  made 
the  scapegoat,  as  he  too  often  has  been,  for  this  dis- 
graceful and  unnecessary  catastrophe. 

It  wiis  a  temporary  disgrace,  however.  Presi- 
dent and  people  soon  recovered  from  its  effects,  and 
were  made  more  united,  less  provincial;  more  a 
nation,  and  less  a  simple  confederation.  Indeed, 
as  one  historian  asserts,  "the  War  of  1812  has  been 
often  and  truly  called  the  Second  War  of  Inde- 
pendence," an  independence  not  merely  of  other 
nations,  but  of  the  hampering,  old-time  condition 


JAMES    MADISON.  185 

and  traditions  of  the  narrow  colonial  days.  So, 
after  all,  like  the  Spanish  war  of  1898,  it  was,  if 
unnecessary,  not  unproductive  of  good  as  part  of" 
that  Divine  plan  which  permits  wars  for  the  sake 
of  national  development,  progress,  humanity,  and 
manliness. 

In  all  of  this  progress  James  Madison  had  a  share, 
and  no  one  welcomed  peace  with  more  delight  or 
more  strenuously  endeavored  to  heal  the  cruel 
wounds  of  war.  His  efforts,  which  were  strong, 
practical,  sincere,  statesmanlike,  and  patriotic,  were 
attended  with  success,  and  the  prestige  lost  by  him 
through  lack  of  warlike  ability  was  restored  to  him 
by  his  efforts  towards  the  public  good;  for,  as 
the  evils  and  ill-feeling  of  the  war  melted  away,  the 
people  received  with  appreciative  satisfaction  the 
eighth  and  last  annual  message  of  the  president 
of  the  United  States. 

"  I  can  indulge  the  proud  reflection,"  he  said, 
"  that  the  American  people  have  reached  in  safety 
and  success  their  fortieth  year  as  an  independent 
nation ;  that  for  nearly  an  entire  generation  they 
have  had  experience  of  their  present  Constitution, 
the  offspring  of  their  undisturbed  deliberation  and 
of  their  free  choice ;  that  they  have  found  it  to 
bear  the  trials  of  adverse  as  well  as  of  prosperous 
circumstances ;  to  contain  in  its  combination  of 
the  federate  and  elective  principles  a  reconcile- 
ment of  public  strength  with  individual  liberty,  of 
national  power  for  the  defence  of  national  rights, 


186  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

with  a  security  against  wars  of  injustice,  of  ambi- 
tion, and  of  vainglory,  and  in  the  fundamental  pro- 
vision which  subjects  all  questions  of  war  to  the 
will  of  the  nation  itself,  which  is  to  pay  its  costs 
and  feel  its  calamities.  Nor  is  it  less  a  peculiar 
felicity  of  this  Constitution,  so  dear  to  us  all,  that 
it  is  found  to  be  capable,  without  losing  the  vital 
energies,  of  expanding  itself  over  a  spacious  terri- 
tory with  the  increase  and  expansion  of  the  com- 
munity for  whose  benefit  it  was  established." 

It  is  natural  for  a  man  who  has  done  a  fine  piece 
of  work  to  regard  it  with  affection  and  speak  of  it 
with  pride.  So,  on  the  occasion  of  his  retirement 
from  public  life,  which  came  in  1817  at  the  con- 
clusion of  his  second  term  as  president,  Mr.  Madi- 
son, in  his  last  annual  message,  fell  back,  as  you 
have  seen,  to  the  piece  of  his  own  handiwork  he 
admired  most,  — the  Constitution,  — and  begged  his 
fellow-countrymen  to  look  upon  it  with  equal  pride 
and  veneration. 

May  not  this  remark  from  "the  Father  of  the 
Constitution"  also  be  seriously  considered  by  those 
who  to-day  affirm  that  "  the  Fathers  "  and  the  "  Con- 
stitution "  were  opposed  to  American  expansion  and 
progress  ? 

And  as  the  old  veteran  —  worn  and  weakened 
by  his  long  service  and  the  trials  he  had  undergone 
—  drops  out  of  public  life  into  the  happy  retirement 
of  his  Virginia  farm  at  Montpellier,  where  he  died 
in  1836,  at  the  age  of  eighty-five,  we  can  readily  give 


JAMES    MADISON.  187 

him  place  as  one  of  those  historic  Americans  who 
builded  even  better  than  he  knew  when  he  did  so 
large  and  so  grand  a  share  towards  the  production 
of  the  immortal  Constitution  of  the  United  States — 
a  paper  which  Professor  Channing  calls  "  the  most 
marvellous  political  instrument  that  has  ever  been 
formulated.  It  was  designed,"  he  says,  "by  men 
familiar  with  the  mode  of  life  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  to  provide  an  escape  from  the  intolerable 
conditions  of  that  time,  and  to  furnish  a  practicable 
form  of  government  for  four  millions  of  human 
beings  inhabiting  the  fringe  of  a  continent.  It  has 
proved,  with  exceptions,  sufficient  for  the  govern- 
ment of  seventy  millions,  living  in  forty-five  States, 
covering  an  area  imperial  in  extent  and  under 
circumstances  unthought  of  in  1787."  Should 
Americans  question  the  ability  of  that  immortal 
document  to  prove  equal  to  the  necessities  and 
emergencies  of  even  wider  growth  and  vaster 
development  ? 

And  for  this  beneficent,  enduring,  and  world- 
famous  national  covenant  the  Republic  has  largely 
to  thank  its  illustrious  son  and  patriotic  defender, 
James  Madison,  of  Montpellier,  fourth  president  of 
the  United  States. 


XIV. 

THE    STORY    OF   JAMES     MONROE,     OF 
WESTMORELAND, 

CALLED     THE    "AUTHOR    OF    THE    MONROE 
DOCTRINE." 


Born  at  Monroe's  Creek,  Virginia,  April  28, 1758. 
Died  in  New  York  City,  July  4, 1831. 


"A  career  like  his  will  never  be  forgotten.  Its  story  will 
reveal  the  mind  and  heart  of  a  patriot,  in  new  and  trying  situa- 
tions, true  to  the  idea  of  American  independence  from  European 
interference." — Daniel  Coit  Oilman. 

"  Now,  boys  !  Down  with  the  bloody  Hessians ! 
We  '11  show  'em  what  they  get  for  pestering 
Americans.  Follow  me.  For  the  guns  !  Charge  !  " 

Stirling's  brigade  was  on  the  double-quick  down 
King  street ;  the  third  shot  from  Hamilton's  bat- 
tery, where  the  Trenton  Battle  monument  now 
stands,  had  tumbled  over  the  Hessian  pieces  which 
had  been  rushed  up  the  street  to  check  the  Ameri- 
can assault ;  Rahl's  grenadiers  came  hurrying  out  of 
Queen  street ;  the  fusiliers  of  the  Lossberg  regi- 
ment swung  around  from  Church  alley ;  a  dash 
was  made  to  right  the  disabled  guns,  and  stop  the 
on-rush  of  Stirling's  men. 

188 


JAMES    MONROE.  189 

Then  it  was  that  one  of  the  boys  of  Weedon's 
regiment,  a  lieutenant  of  the  Third  Virginia  line, 
headed  a  file  of  his  own  company  and,  rattling  off 
the  challenge  and  the  order  I  have  quoted,  flashed 
his  sword  in  command  and  dashed  straight  against 
the  reenforced  Hessian  battery  on  the  stone  bridge 
across  Petty's  Run. 

The  Hessians  broke  before  the  fierce  charge  of 
Stirling's  men;  but,  even  as  they  turned,  they  sent 
a  volley  whistling  across  the  debated  battery ;  the 
lieutenant's  dash  was  stopped  for  a  moment  as  he 
spun  around  like  a  top,  with  a  bullet  in  his  shoulder ; 
but  at  once  he  recovered  himself,  and  with  deter- 
mination intensified  by  the  wound  he  now  had  to 
reckon  for,  he  flung  himself  on  the  battery,  his  men 
at  his  heels. 

The  two  Hessian  field-pieces  that  were  still 
unharmed  were  seized  upon  by  the  lieutenant, 
wheeled  about,  and  trained  upon  the  wavering, 
panic-stricken  grenadiers  of  Rahl;  .full  into  their 
ranks  plunged  their  own  confiscated  shot,  and  then, 
still  led  by  the  boy  lieutenant,  the  captors  of  the 
guns,  joined  by  the  whole  force  of  Stirling's  brigade, 
charged  with  the  cold  bayonet  upon  the  now  con- 
fused and  huddling  mass  of  grenadiers  and  fusiliers 
and  pushed  them  down  King  street  and  out  of  the 
town. 

Brave  Colonel  Rahl,  the  Hessian  leader,  dashed 
after  his  retreating  troops. 

"  Right   about !  "   he   thundered.      "  Don't  run 


190  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

from  these  rebel  dogs  !  Back  into  the  village  with 
you !  Kill  them ;  drive  them  back  !  " 

Accustomed  to  obey,  the  Hessians  rallied  and 
turned  back.  But  to  no  effect.  Stirling's  men 
were  about  them  and  upon  them  in  an  instant. 
From  houses  and  fences  on  King  street  came  the 
musket-crack  of  the  Virginian  sharpshooters,  while 
the  boy  lieutenant  and  his  captured  battery  of  two 
guns  held  the  Hessian  return  at  bay.  The  bridge 
across  the  Assunpink  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Ameri- 
cans ;  every  avenue  of  escape  was  closed  ;  but  Rahl, 
determined  upon  one  last  dash,  shouted,  "All  who 
are  my  grenadiers,  forward !  "  Crack  !  went  one  of 
the  muskets  of  the  young  lieutenant's  company  ; 
ping  !  sang  the  bullet  through  the  air,  and  Colonel 
Rahl  fell  from  his  horse,  wounded  to  the  death. 

The  trundling  field-pieces  blazed  away  once  more 
into  the  leaderless  Hessian  ranks  ;  the  regiments 
"  Rahl "  and  "  Lossberg,"  broke  in  demoralization  ; 
and  crowding  pell-mell  into  the  apple-orchard,  near 
where  now  stands  the  post-office  building  on  State 
street,  they  lowered  their  standards,  grounded  arms, 
and  with  the  officers'  hats  swinging  on  the  points  of 
their  swords  in  token  of  defeat  the  Hessians  sur- 
rendered, the  battle  of  Trenton  had  been  won,  and 
right  in  the  heart  of  what  is  now  the  capital  city 
of  New  Jersey  Washington  had  struck  Britain  a 
blow  from  which  it  never  recovered :  for  he  had 
turned  the  tide ;  he  had  won  a  victory  that  aston- 
ished the  world;  he  had  proved  to  the  American 


JAMES    MONROE.  191 

people  that  British  troops  were  not  invincible  ;  and 
he  forced  the  ministers  of  King  George  to  declare 
in  after  years  that  "  all  our  hopes  were  blasted  by 
that  unhappy  affair  at  Trenton." 

In  that  "  unhappy  affair,"  which  proved  so  glo- 
rious an  affair  for  America,  the  boy  lieutenant  of 
eighteen,  who  with  a  broken  shoulder  still  led  his 
men  to  the  capture  of  the  Hessian  battery  and  the 
surrender  in  the  apple-orchard,  was  James  Monroe, 
of  Westmoreland  county,  Virginia. 

That  wounded  shoulder  stayed  by  him  all  through 
life  ;  the  bullet  he  kept  as  a  souvenir  of  Trenton 
—  but  always  in  his  shoulder ;  for  it  was  never  ex- 
tracted. But  it  made  him  a  captain,  major,  lieuten- 
ant-colonel, and  colonel ;  it  helped  him  fight  all  the 
harder  (because  he  remembered  who  put  it  there) 
at  Brandywine  and  Germantown  and  Monmouth ; 
and  was  to  him  a  badge  of  honorable  service  as,  step 
by  step,  he  rose  from  soldier  to  statesman,  from 
statesman  to  governor,  from  governor  to  senator, 
from  senator  to  minister,  from  minister  to  secre- 
tary, from  secretary  to  president.  For  that  young 
lieutenant  in  the  Trenton  fight  became  President 
James  Monroe,  twice  raised  to  the  highest  seat  in 
the  gift  of  the  American  people,  in  whose  defence 
he  fought,  and  for  whose  welfare  he  labored  through 
a  long  and  busy  life. 

As  to  the  measures  and  actions  of  that  long  and 
busy  life  opinions  may  differ,  for  politicians  are 
biased  and  historians  are  not  always  impartial ;  but 


192  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

neither  politician  nor  historian,  if  he  be  just  and 
true,  can  deny  to  James  Monroe  soundness  of 
judgment,  wisdom,  prudence  and  forethought, 
strength  of  character,  and  purity  of  life.  Thomas 
Jefferson  said  of  him :  "  He  is  a  man  whose  soul 
might  be  turned  wrong-side  outwards  without  dis- 
covering a  blemish  to  the  world ;  "  and  even  though 
that  high  opinion  of  his  worth  came  from  the  man 
who  was  at  once  tutor  and  leader  to  James  Monroe, 
neither  friend  nor  foe  ever  questioned  its  truth  or 
criticised  its  sincerity. 

The  one  act  of  his  life  that  gives  him  chief 
prominence  as  an  historic  American  is  his  bold 
enunciation  of  what  has  been  ever  known  as  the 
"  Monroe  doctrine  "  —  the  claim  that  America  is 
for  Americans,  and  that  no  encroachment  of  foreign 
powers  on  American  soil  will  be  contenanced  or 
permitted. 

The  same  splendid  burst  of  courage  that  sent 
young  Lieut.  James  Monroe  into  the  mouth  of 
the  Hessian  cannon  at  Trenton,  and,  even  though 
his  arm  hung  shattered  by  a  Hessian  bullet,  held 
him  pluckily  to  his  work  until  that  storied  sur- 
render in  the  apple-orchard,  drew  from  President 
James  Monroe,  when  Europe  threatened  to  force 
back  into  vassalage  the  revolted  American  colonies 
of  Spain,  the  courageous  order,  "  Hands  off !  or 
we  '11  make  you,"  even  though  the  combined  forces 
of  the  so-called  Holy  Alliance  threatened,  blust- 
ered, and  sneered. 


JAMES    MONROE.  193 

Courage  is  courage,  whether  in  soldier  or  states- 
man. But  James  Monroe  came  of  a  warlike  race. 
The  Monroes  of  Scotland  figured  on  every  battle- 
field of  Europe  from  the  time  of  William  the  Con- 
queror to  Waterloo ;  and  the  Monroes  or  Munroes 
of  America  came  from  that  same  clan  of  fighting 
men  who,  daring  to  resist  Cromwell,  were  shipped 
off  to  America  there  to  fight  or  fall  on  every  battle- 
field of  freedom  from  Lexington  to  Yorktown, 
from  Lundy's  Lane  to  Santiago. 

Born  near  to  the  birthplace  of  Washington  in  the 
beautiful  Potomac  region  of  Northern  Virginia, 
James  Monroe's  father  was  one  of  those  Virginia 
farmers  who,  in  1776,  protested  against  the  Stamp 
Act  and  counselled  resistance  to  British  aggression. 
Young  James  Monroe  was  at  his  studies  in  the  old 
college  of  William  and  Mary  when  the  American 
Revolution  broke  out,  and  was  one  among  the 
college  volunteers  composed  of  three  professors 
and  thirty  students  who  sprang  to  arms  and  joined 
the  Continental  army. 

You  have  seen  how  he  fought  at  Trenton.  That 
same  courage  was  displayed  on  other  famous  fields ; 
and  when  in  1782  he  entered  at  twenty-four,  by  his 
election  to  the  Virginia  Legislature,  upon  his  long 
career  of  public  service  he  brought  to  his  political 
duties  the  same  interest,  energy,  and  earnestness 
that  had  made  him  a  courageous  and  successful 
soldier.  Those  political  duties  were  varied  and 
continuous.  Beginning  in  1782,  he  was  delegate 


194  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

to  the  Legislature,  member  of  the  governor's  coun- 
cil, delegate  to  three  successive  Congresses ;  again 
member  of  the  Virginia  Legislature,  member  of  the 
Virginia  Constitutional  Convention,  United  States 
senator,  governor  of  Virginia,  envoy  to  France, 
again  governor,  and  again  envoy  of  the  United 
States  to  France,  Spain,  and  England ;  returning 
home,  he  became  secretary  of  state  and  of  war 
under  President  Madison,  and  succeeding  his  fel- 
low-Virginian in  that  high  office,  served  two  terms 
as  president  of  the  United  States,  from  1817  to 
1825 ;  and  then,  after  six  years  of  honorable  retire- 
ment, died,  a  poor  man,  at  his  daughter's  home  in 
New  York  City,  having  for  forty-three  years  served 
the  Republic  faithfully  and  well. 

His  duty  as  envoy  to  France  was  to  arrange  with 
Napoleon  Bonaparte,  then,  in  1803,  first  consul 
and  real  dictator  of  France,  the  purchase  and  cession 
of  Louisiana,  —  the  whole  vast  stretch  of  western 
country  between  the  Mississippi  and  the  Pacific,  — 
"the  largest  transaction  in  real  estate  which  the 
world  has  ever  known,"  Mr.  Oilman  calls  it;  as 
minister  to  England  he  fought  the  battle  for  the 
rights  of  American  sailors  that  was  only  settled 
by  the  results  of  a  second  war  with  England  — 
the  needless  and  scarcely  brilliant  conflict  known 
as  the  war  of  1812. 

In  that  leaderless  war  Monroe,  then  secretary  of 
state,  was  forced,  by  the  sudden  resignation  of 
General  Armstrong,  the  secretary  of  war,  —  to 


JAMES    MONROE.  195 

whose  faults  the  capture  and  destruction  of  Wash- 
ington have  been  charged,  —  to  act  himself  in  the 
emergency  as  secretary  of  war;  and  in  that  time 
of  desperate  strait  he  threw  into  his  new  duty  the 
same  courage  and  vigor  that  he  had  displayed 
nearly  forty  years  before  on  the  field  of  Trenton, 
and  with  .much  the  same  result,  for  he  wrested 
victory  from  apparent  defeat  and  disaster. 

Money  was  needed,  but  none  could  be  obtained, 
for  confidence  arid  credit  were  alike  gone.  At 
once  Monroe  went  to  the  Bank  of  Columbia  to 
appeal  for  funds.  None  could  be  loaned,  though 
government  securities  were  offered,  at  a  great 
sacrifice,  as  collateral. 

Then  said  Secretary  Monroe  to  the  cashier  of 
the  bank : 

"  If  you  have  no  confidence  in  the  securities  of 
the  government,  sir,  have  you  confidence  in  my 
honor?" 

"  In  your  word  of  honor  as  a  man,  Mr.  Secretary, 
most  certainly  I  have,"  the  cashier  replied. 

"  Then,  sir,"  said  Monroe,  "  I  ask  you  to  accept 
my  word  of  honor  as  a  pledge.  Give  me  the 
money  that  the  government  must  have  to  meet  its 
needs  and  I  will  pledge  you  my  honor,  backed  by 
my  private  fortune,  that  the  money  shall  be  repaid." 

It  was  almost  the  story  of  Robert  Morris  over 
again,  was  it  not?  The  example  of  that  Revolu- 
tionary patriot  had  not  been  lost  on  this  soldier  of 
the  Revolution.  And  it  had  a  like  result.  His 


1Q6  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

pledge  was  accepted,  the  money  was  forthcoming, 
and  with  that  in  hand  he  acted  at  once.  Arms 
were  sent  to  Jackson  in  New  Orleans  ;  Washing- 
ton was  put  into  a  state  of  defence ;  Baltimore 
was  saved  by  the  strengthening  of  Fort  Me  Henry ; 
and  Francis  Scott  Key  was  inspired  by  what  he 
saw  to  write  "  The  Star  Spangled  Banner."  Is  not 
that  glory  enough  and  repayment  enough  for 
sacrifice  and  exertion? 

But  more  than  this.  With  the  arms  forwarded 
to  New  Orleans  he  sent  also  daring,  determined, 
and  decisive  orders  to  Jackson ;  while  to  the 
Southern  governors  he  wrote,  rousing  them  to 
action.  "  Hasten  your  militia  to  New  Orleans," 
he  said.  "  Do  not  wait  for  this  government  to  arm 
them;  put  all  the  arms  you  can  find  into  their 
hands ;  let  every  man  bring  his  rifle  with  him. 
We  will  see  you  paid." 

So  Jackson  was  strengthened ;  New  Orleans  was 
reenforced ;  Pakenham  and  his  red-coated  veterans 
of  Wellington's  wars  were  hurled  back  in  defeat 
and  rout;  and,  thanks  to  the  generalship  of  Jack- 
son and  the  energy  of  Monroe,  what  had  been  a 
dispirited,  leaderless,  ineffective  war  ended  in  the 
mighty  triumph  and  the  blaze  of  glory  that  have 
given  to  the  war  of  1812  all  its  prestige  and  all 
its  traditions ;  and  for  this  America  may  thank 
James  Monroe,  secretary  of  state  and  war. 

As  president  of  the  United  States  through  eight 
years  Monroe  won  both  respect  and  renown.  Re- 


JAMES    MONROE.  197 

spect  because  there  was  in  his  administration  so 
little  of  party  strife  and  feud,  so  little  of  animosity 
and  opposition,  that  it  has  always  been  called  "  the 
era  of  good  feeling ; "  "  an  age,"  says  one  of  the 
historians  of  the  time,  "  worthy  to  be  cherished  in 
our  history."  It  won  renown  because,  against  the 
pressure  and  threats  of  a  union  of  certain  European 
governments  in  behalf  of  Spain  —  whose  treatment 
of  Cuba  was  even  then  an  eyesore  to  Americans  — 
President  James  Monroe  issued  that  startling,  pa- 
triotic, determined,  and  American  edict  that  men 
have  ever  called  "the  Monroe  doctrine." 

We  can  see  him  on  a  November  day  in  1823, 
seated  at  his  desk  in  the  little  room  in  the  second 
story  of  the  big  barn-like  White  House  at  Wash- 
ington, writing  his  annual  message.  A  man  of 
medium  height  was  President  James  Monroe,  com- 
pact and  firm  of  figure,  as  one  who  had  been  well 
trained  to  endure  labor  and  fatigue,  somewhat 
grave,  even  stern  of  face,  yet  with  a  pleasant  smile 
to  lighten  his  set  features,  plainly  dressed,  and  sim- 
ple in  his  ways  and  manner.  But  on  that  November 
day  there  was  nothing  soft  or  weak  in  the  expression 
of  his  face  or  the  grasp  and  poise  of  his  pen. 

for  President  James  Monroe  had  been  roused  to 
indignation  and  protest  by  certain  acts  of  the 
nations  across  the  sea  —  especially  Spain,  whose 
American  colonies  had  one  by  one  revolted  against 
her  cruel  sway  and  set  up  for  themselves,  only  to 
be  threatened  with  being  forced  again  under  Spain's 


198  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

hated  control  by  the  tyrannical  union  of  European 
absolutism  known  as  the  Holy  Alliance  —  holy  only 
in  name,  for  it  was  a  most  unholy  one. 

And  as  he  thought  over  the  menacing  news  that 
had  come  to  him,  and  consulted  the  reports  and 
despatches  that  his  secretaries  had  laid  before  him, 
the  old  spirit  of  resistance  to  aggression  that  had 
made  him  a  soldier  of  the  Revolution,  joined  to  the 
courage  that  had  brought  him  strength  at  Trenton 
fight,  blazed  up  again  into  action.  His  pen  rushed 
like  a  new  charge  upon  the  batteries  of  the  foemen 
of  the  Union,  and  left  upon  the  paper  these  strong 
and  now  historic  sentences  : 

"  The  citizens  of  the  United  States  cherish  senti- 
ments the  most  friendly  in  favor  of  the  liberty  and 
happiness  of  their  fellow-men  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Atlantic.  In  the  wars  of  the  European  powers, 
in  matters  relating  to  themselves,  we  have  never 
taken  any  part,  nor  does  it  comport  with  our  policy 
to  do  so.  It  is  only  when  our  rights  are  invaded 
or  seriously  menaced  that  we  resent  injuries  or 
make  preparation  for  our  defence.  With  the  move- 
ments in  this  hemisphere  we  are,  of  necessity,  more 
intimately  connected ;  .  .  .  and  to  the  defence 
of  our  government,  which  has  been  achieved  by  the 
loss  of  so  much  blood  and  treasure,  and  matured 
by  the  wisdom  of  our  most  enlightened  citizens, 
and  under  which  we  have  enjoyed  unexampled 
felicity,  this  whole  nation  is  devoted. 

"  We  owe  it,  therefore,  to  candor  and  to  the  ami- 


JAMES    MONROE.  199 

cable  relations  existing  between  the  United  States 
and  the  allied  powers  to  declare  that  we  should  con- 
sider any  attempt  on  their  part  to  extend  their 
system  to  any  portion  of  this  hemisphere  as  danger- 
ous to  our  peace  and  safety. 

"  With  the  existing  colonies  or  dependencies  of 
any  European  power  we  have  not  interfered  and 
shall  not  interfere.  But  with  the  governments  who 
have  declared  their  independence,  and  whose  inde- 
pendence we  have,  in  great  consideration  and  in 
just  principles,  acknowledged,  we  could  not  view 
any  interposition  for  the  purpose  of  oppressing  them, 
or  controlling  in  any  other  manner  their  destiny,  by 
any  European  power,  in  any  other  light  than  as  the 
manifestation  of  an  unfriendly  disposition  toward 
the  United  States." 

That  is  the  "Monroe  doctrine."  "Keep  your 
hands  off,  it  said,  in  courteous  but  decided  language, 
to  European  kings  and  princes;  "America  is  for 
Americans." 

Some  historical  writers  have  sought  to  take  the 
credit  of  this  noble  utterance  from  him  who  wrote 
and  published  it,  finding  traces  of  it  in  Washing- 
ton's farewell  address  and  in  the  words  of  Jefferson. 
But  whatever  those  great  Americans  may  have  said 
or  however  they  may  have  felt  it  still  remains  that 
the  enunciation  and  proclamation  of  non-interfer- 
ence came,  at  the  right  time,  from  President  James 
Monroe,  and  that  the  declaration  of  independence 
from  foreign  powers  or  princes,  springing  from  the 


200  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

great  Declaration  for  which  he  had  fought,  found 
broader  expression  in  his  courteous  but  determined 
words,  and  has  kept  Europe  from  meddling  in  the 
affairs  of  America  from  his  day  to  this. 

England  has  long  been  esteemed  by  prejudiced 
Americans  and  by  the  writers  of  history  for  Amer- 
ican boys  and  girls  as  simply  the  hereditary  rival  and 
foeman  of  the  United  States.  It  is  well,  therefore, 
for  all  Americans  to  recall  the  fact,  as  a  better  in- 
ternational spirit  seems  dawning  with  a  new  century, 
that  it  was  the  declaration  of  the  Monroe  doctrine 
in  1823,  plus  the  open  objection  of  England,  that 
defeated  the  plans  of  the  so-called  Holy  Alliance ; 
it  is  well  to  note,  also,  that  it  was  the  Monroe  doc- 
trine, plus  tl^e  open  objection  of  England,  that  in 
1898,  withheld  the  powers  of  Europe  from  inter- 
fering in  the  Spanish-American  war.  Blood,  indeed, 
is  thicker  than  water,  and  the  Anglo-Saxon  is  the 
Anglo-Saxon's  kinsman  in  time  of  need. 

James  Monroe  died,  in  1831,  at  the  residence 
of  his  daughter  in  the  city  of  New  York ;  but  his 
grave  is  in  the  beautiful  Hollywood  cemetery  in 
Richmond,  surmounted  by  an  ugly  iron  cage,  as 
inappropriate  as  it  is  inartistic ;  for  James  Mon- 
roe was  neither  pompous,  showy,  nor  vain,  and  a 
simple  slab  or  a  plain  obelisk  would  have  better 
suited  the  commemoration  of  this  simple-minded, 
unobtrusive  American,  whose  advance  and  success 
were  due  to  his  abilities,  not  to  his  ambition. 

The  last  of  the  Revolutionary  presidents,  he  died, 


JAMES    MONROE.  201 

like  Jefferson  and  John  Adams,  on  the  Fourth  of  July 
—  the  day  which  he  had  helped  to  make,  with  sword 
and  with  pen,  the  chief  red-letter  day  of  the  Republic. 

Those  who  find  it  agreeable  and  deem  it  wise  to 
pick  flaws  in  the  greatest  and  hunt  out  the  foibles 
and  frailties  of  those  whom  the  world  honors  and  re- 
veres have  —  seeking  what  they  blindly  call  the 
truth  of  history  —  criticised  and  belittled  James 
Monroe.  He  is  set  down  as  "  a  second-rate  man," 
treacherous  to  his  friends,  uncertain,  jealous,  and 
small-minded.  But  these  seem  the  overstatement 
of  investigators  who  seize  upon  the  weaknesses 
rather  than  the  virtues  of  the  great,  and  accept  the 
gossip  of  contemporary  critics  rather  than  the  esti- 
mates of  fellow-workers  and  friends. 

To  have  been  the  associate  and  friend  of  Wash- 
ington and  Adams,  Madison  and  Marshall,  Jeffer- 
son and  Patrick  Henry,  should  count  for  more  in 
a  man  than  the  biased  claims  of  critics ;  while  the 
boy  who  fought  so  bravely  under  Washington's 
eye  at  Trenton,  the  man  who  saved  the  war  of 
1812  from  utter  disgrace,  who  secured  an  empire  for 
the  Republic,  and  sounded  a  challenge  and  defiance 
to  the  tyrants  and  meddlers  of  Europe,  deserved 
better  of  the  Republic  than  to  die  in  poverty  and 
be  underrated  by  posterity.  Instead,  the  United 
States  of  America  should  hold  his  memory  precious 
and  do  him  homage  as  one  of  the  heroes  of  the 
Revolution,  a  patriotic,  unselfish,  pureminded, 
brave-hearted,  and  high-spirited  American. 


XV. 

THE  STORY  OF  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS, 
•   OF  QUINCY, 

CALLED   "THE   OLD   MAN   ELOQUENT." 


Born  at  Braintree,  Massachusetts,  July  11,  1767. 
Died  at  Washington,  February  23, 1848. 


"  He  was  always  a  man  of  high  temper  and  eminently  a  citi- 
zen of  the  United  States.  .  .  .  He  was  wholly,  exclusively, 
and  warmly  American.  He  had  no  second  love;  the  United 
States  filled  his  public  heart  and  monopolized  his  political  affec- 
tions." —  John  Torrey  Morse. 

IN  that  part  of  the  old  town  of  Braintree  in  Mas- 
sachusetts now  known  as  Quincy  there  rises  tow- 
ards the  Bay  a  green  ridge  known  as  Penn's  hill. 
It  has  a  fair  outlook  across  the  water,  Boston-way, 
and  on  the  crest  of  that  hill  on  the  seventeenth  of 
June  in  the  year  1775  a  very  remarkable  small  boy 
of  seven,  and  a  very  remarkable  woman,  his  mother, 
stood  hand  in  hand  looking  off  towards  town. 

They  were  not  up  there  for  the  view,  or  to 
watch  the  deep  colorings  of  a  rare  June  day ;  other 
thoughts  than  the  beauty  of  the  season  or  the  fair- 
ness of  the  outlook  filled  their  troubled  souls,  for, 
over  the  water,  came  the  distant  boom  of  guns ; 

202 


JOHN   QUINCY  ADAMS.  203 

across  the  harbor  they  could  see  the  rising  clouds  of 
smoke  and  catch  the  gleam  of  flames,  seven  miles 
away. 

Charlestown  was  burning ;  Bunker  hill  was  being 
fought ;  *nd  Abigail  Adams  and  her  little  son,  John 
Quincy  Adams,  from  their  outlook  on  the  crest  of 
Penn's  hill,  where  to-day  a  cairn  and  tablet  com- 
memorate the  event,  were  looking  off  towards  the 
scene  which  was  to  play  so  large  a  part  in  the  his- 
tory of  America,  and  to  have  so  direct  an  influence 
upon  the  future  of  that  small  boy  of  seven. 

That  small  boy  was  already  an  earnest  young 
patriot.  When  Lexington  roused  the  minute-men 
and  set  the  men  and  boys  to  drilling  on  the  village 
green,  little  John  Quincy  Adams  shouldered  a 
musket  with  the  rest  and  went  through  the  crude 
manual  of  arms  like  the  "true"  soldier;  and,  after 
Bunker  hill,  when  this  small  boy's  father,  the 
famous  John  Adams,  hurried  away  to  Philadelphia 
as  a  delegate  to  the  Continental  Congress,  John 
Quincy  Adams  and  his  mother  stayed  in  the  little 
house  at  Braintree  (still  standing,  a  carefully  pre- 
served relic).  Boston  was  held  by  British  troops, 
between  whom  and  their  suburban  besiegers  a  furi- 
ous battle  might  any  day  occur,  and  John  and  his 
mother  were,  as  John  Adams  feared  and  fretted, 
"  liable  every  hour  of  the  day  and  of  the  night  to 
be  butchered  in  cold  blood  or  taken  and  carried 
into  Boston  as  hostages  by  any  foraging  or  maraud- 
ing detachment." 


204  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

But  nothing  of  the  sort  happened.  The  British 
were  too  busy  looking  after  their  own  safety  and 
supplies  in  beleaguered  Boston  to  annoy  the  wife 
and  child  even  of  that  stout  and  most  audacious 
malcontent,  John  Adams,  whom  King  George,  as 
you  know,  regarded  as  the  chief  of  his  American 
rebels. 

And  when  "  beleaguered  Boston  "  became  Yankee 
Boston  once  more,  and  redcoat  and  Tory  had  sailed 
away  for  Halifax,  then  this  small  Braintree  boy 
acted  as  messenger,  post-rider,  or  mail-carrier  be- 
tween the  farm  and  the  town,  in  order  that  Mis- 
tress Abigail  Adams,  his  mother,  might  have  Bos- 
ton's very  latest  news  from  camp  and  Congress. 

I  have  said  he  was  a  remarkable  boy,  and  so  he 
surely  was.  I  know  of  none  among  historic  Amer- 
icans whose  boyhood  was  more  remarkable.  For 
at  seven  he  drilled  'with  the  Continental  troops ;  at 
nine  he  was  post-rider  to  Boston,  and  his  mother's 
main  reliance ;  at  ten  he  sailed  to  Europe  with  his 
famous  father,  John  Adams,  commissioner  to 
France;  at  eleven  he  began  a  wonderful  journal 
that  continued  for  seventy  years ;  at  twelve  he  went 
to  school  in  Holland ;  at  thirteen  he  went  to  Russia 
as  private  secretary  to  Mr.  Dana,  the  American 
envoy  ;  at  fifteen  he  was  assistant  secretary  to  those 
three  famous  Americans  in  France  —  Franklin, 
Jefferson,  and  Adams  —  who  were  negotiating  the 
treaty  of  alliance  ;  and  at  eighteen  he  might  have 
accompanied  his  distinguished  father  across  the 


JOHN    QUINCY   ADAMS.  205 

Channel  as  secretary  to  the  minister  to  England. 
But  this  wise  and  brave  young  man  was  so  wise 
and  brave  that  he  turned  his  back  on  what  seemed 
to  him  a  most  tempting  opportunity,  and  decided  to 
go  back  to  New  England  rather  than  cross  over  to 
Old  England,  because,  he  said,  he  did  not  intend 
to  loiter  away  his  precious  time  in  Europe,  and 
shun  going  home  until  he  was  forced  to  it. 

"  With  an  ordinary  share  of  common  sense  which 
I  hope  I  enjoy,"  this  remarkable  boy  declared,  "  at 
least  in  America  I  can  live  independent  and  free  ! 
And  rather  than  live  otherwise  I  would  wish  to  die 
before  the  time  when  I  shall  be  left  at  my  own  dis- 
cretion." 

Spoken  like  a  true  and  sensible  young  Ameri- 
can, was  it  not  ?  And  so  back  he  went,  "  to  become 
a  boy  again,"  and,  by  studying  hard,  he  was  able  to 
enter  the  junior  class  at  Harvard  College,  and  to 
graduate  at  twenty,  high  up  in  his  class. 

That  I  call  being  a  remarkable  boy.  Of  course, 
young  John  Quincy  Adams  did  not  have  what  most 
boys  regard  as  much  "  fun,"  but  then,  John  Quincy 
Adams  was  not  that  kind  of  a  boy.  He  was  sober 
and  sensible  ;  not  a  prig,  but  precocious  ;  "  morally 
never  either  a  child  or  a  lad,"  one  of  his  biographers 
declares,  "  and  at  an  age  when  most  young  people 
simply  win  love  or  cause  annoyance,  he  was  prefer- 
ring wisdom  to  mischief,  and  actually  in  his  earliest 
years  was  attracting  a  certain  respect." 

I  must  confess  that,  for  myself,  I  prefer  a  real, 


206  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

eveiy-day  boy  to  a  marvel.  But  then,  exceptions, 
like  young  John  Quincy  Adams,  make  the  rule  all 
the  stronger  and  incite,  by  their  example,  the  real, 
every-day  boys  to  do  the  very  best  they  can. 

Sometimes  boys  who  are  marvels,  or  what  we  call 
precocious,  do  not  bear  out  their  record  for  ability 
when  they  become  men.  But  John  Quincy  Adams 
was  remarkable  as  boy  and  man  —  even  until  he 
died  in  harness  at  eighty-one.  Let  me  give  you  the 
list  of  his  achievements  as  an  historic  American. 

At  twenty-three  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar  and 
became  a  successful  lawyer  ;  at  twenty-five  he  was 
writing  anonymous  public  papers  in  reply  to  the 
able  but  erratic  Tom  Paine,  so  strong  and  effective 
that  they  were  credited  to  his  father,  John  Adams ; 
at  twenty-seven  he  was  sent  as  United  States 
minister  to  Holland ;  at  thirty  he  was  minister  to 
Prussia  ;  at  thirty-five  he  was  a  State  senator  in  the 
Massachusetts  Legislature ;  at  thirty-six  United 
States  senator  from  Massachusetts  ;  at  thirty-nine 
he  was  a  professor  in  Harvard  College;  at  forty- 
two  he  was  United  States  minister  to  Russia ;  and 
at  forty-eight  he  was  made  American  minister  to 
England.  He  was  secretary  of  state  at  fifty,  and 
again  at  fifty-four ;  at  fifty-seven  he  was  elected 
president  of  the  United  States.  And  then,  most 
remarkable  of  all  in  this  remarkable  record,  after 
filling  so  many  high  offices  he  went  back  to  Con- 
gress, as  representative  from  Massachusetts,  at  the 
age  of  sixty-four,  and  continued  there  until  his 


JOHN    QUINCY  ADAMS.  207 

death  at  eighty-one,  serving  so  faithfully,  valiantly, 
and  nobly  that,  as  Mr.  Morse  says,  he  earned  "  in 
his  old  age  a  noble  fame  and  distinction  far  tran- 
scending any  achievement  of  his  youth  and  middle 
age,  and  attained  the  highest  pinnacle  of  his  fame 
after  he  had  left  the  greatest  office  of  the  govern- 
ment ;  "  for,  as  I  have  told  you,  he  died  in  harness  at 
eighty-one  —  the  champion  of  liberty  and  the  right 
of  free  speech. 

That  is  a  great  record,  is  it  not?  And  yet, 
what  do  you  suppose  this  worthy  old  American 
said  of  himself  at  eighty  years  ?  "  My  whole  life 
has  been  a  succession  of  disappointments.  I  can 
scarcely  recollect  a  single  instance  of  success  in 
anything  that  I  ever  undertook." 

Whether  this  was  the  bitterness  of  temporary 
defeat  or  the  restlessness  of  an  ever-present  ambi- 
tion I  am  unable  to  decide.  The  last,  certainly, 
had  always  been  a  part  of  his  character;  for,  at 
twenty-five,  that  tell-tale  diary  of  his  records  his 
impatience  at  the  "  state  of  useless  and  disgraceful 
insignificancy  "  in  which  he  felt  himself  to  be  living 
while  building  up  a  practice  as  a  successful  young 
Boston  lawyer,  and  of  which  he  declares,  "  I  still  find 
myself  as  obscure,  as  unknown  to  the  world,  as  the 
most  indolent  or  the  most  stupid  of  human  beings." 

I  suspect  that  John  Quincy  Adams,  equally  in 
youth  and  old  age,  was  just  a  bit  morbid,  decidedly 
sensitive,  and  greatly  averse  to  taking  a  back  seat, 
as  the  saying  is. 


208  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

But  you  have  seen,  from  what  Mr.  Morse  says, 
that  even  when  John  Quincy  Adams  took  what 
seemed  to  be  a  back  seat,  and  from  being  president 
of  the  United  States  dropped  back  into  the  "  com- 
paratively humble  position "  of  congressman,  he 
found  a  duty  to  do  and  did  it  in  such  a  way  as  to 
add  lustre  and  glory  to  his  whole  career. 

That  closing  chapter  in  this  old  man's  life  seems 
to  me  the  most  remarkable  in  the  whole  remarkable 
story  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  sixth  president  of 
the  United  States,  representative  in  Congress  from 
the  State  of  Massachusetts. 

It  is  well  to  know  at  the  outset  that  John 
Quincy  Adams  did  not  consider  that  in  becoming 
a  congressman  he  had  taken  a  step  downward 
or  backward.  "No  one,"  he  replied  to  a  friend 
who  suggested  such  a  thing,  "  could  be  degraded 
by  serving  the  people  as  a  representative  in  Con- 
gress. Nor  in  my  opinion  would  an  ex-President 
of  the  United  States  be  degraded  by  serving  as  a 
selectman  of  his  town,  if  elected  thereto  by  the 
people."  That  sounds,  does  it  not,  as  if  it  might 
have  come  from  the  lips  of  that  patriotic  old  kins- 
man of  his,  Samuel  Adams,  of  Boston,  "  the  trib- 
une of  the  people,"  whose  story  I  have  told  you  ? 
It  would  be  well  for  America  to-day  if  our  best 
men  would  regard  their  duty  as  Americans  in  this 
exalted  fashion. 

Upon  the  floor  of  the  old  House  of  Representa- 
tives —  what  is  now  Statuary  hall  in  the  com- 


JOHN    QUINCY   ADAMS.  209 

pleted  Capitol  at  Washington  —  John  Quincy 
Adams  fought  for  sixteen  years  what  seemed  a 
losing  but  was  really  a  winning  fight,  as  the  earliest 
and  stoutest  champion  of  anti-slavery  in  the  Amer- 
ican Congress.  It  was,  indeed,  his  burning  words 
in  behalf  of  freedom,  and  what  was  known  as  "  the 
right  of  petition,"  that  gave  him  his  popular  title, 
"  the  Old  Man  Eloquent." 

This  "  right  of  petition  "  was  the  right  of  any 
American  who  felt  that  he  had  a  grievance  to 
present  a  petition  to  Congress  asking  for  attention, 
investigation,  or  redress.  Now,  in  John  Quincy 
Adams's  day  the  subject  of  slavery  was  becoming 
troublesome  in  free  America.  The  South  felt  that 
slavery  was  a  commercial  necessity;  thoughtful 
people  in  the  North  were  awaking  to  the  fact  that 
slavery  in  a  free  Republic  was  wrong. 

Public  sentiment  grew  slowly;  but  there  were 
certain  earnest  champions  of  "  free  soil,  free  speech, 
free  labor,  and  free  men,"  and  John  Quincy  Adams 
was  the  spokesman  in  Congress  for  these  Ameri- 
cans. 

"  Duty  is  ours ;  results  are  God's,"  he  said,  and 
therefore  labored  for  anti-slavery ;  and  one  way  in 
which  he  worked  was  to  present  to  Congress  the 
petitions  from  those  Americans  —  black  as  well  as 
white  —  who  desired  the  abolition  of  slavery. 

Such  action,  of  course,  angered  the  Southern 
members  and  they  sought  to  stop  this  old  slavery 
hater  from  working  his  will.  So  they  endeavored 


210  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

to  create  what  was  called  a  "gag  law,"  which,  prac- 
tically, denied  the  right  of  petition  when  such  peti- 
tion had  any  reference  to  slavery. 

It  was  manifestly  an  unjust  law,  and  you  may  be 
sure  that  John  Quincy  Adams  fought  it  "  tooth  and 
nail." 

He  fought  it  alone  and  single-handed.  To  carry 
out  his  principles  he  made  it  a  point  to  present 
to  Congress  every  petition  that  was  handed  him  — 
even  one  praying  for  his  own  expulsion  from  Con- 
gress as  a  nuisance !  That  was  loyalty  to  a  prin- 
ciple, was  it  not? 

When  the  majority  in  Congress  forced  their  "  gag 
law"  through,  Adams  protested. 

"  I  hold  it,"  he  said,  "  to  be  a  direct  violation  of 
the  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  the  rules  of 
the  House,  and  my  constituents." 

They  tried  to  shout  him  down,  to  silence  him, 
to  expel  him,  but  the  old  fighter  held  his 
ground. 

"  Sir,"  he  said  to  the  Speaker  of  the  House,  one 
day,  after  years  of  this  struggle  for  principle,  "  it 
is  well  known  that  from  the  time  I  entered  this 
House,  down  to  the  present  day,  I  have  felt  it  a 
sacred  duty  to  present  any  petition  couched  in 
respectful  language,  from  any  citizen  of  the  United 
States,  be  its  object  what  it  may.  ...  I  adhere 
to  the  right  of  petition.  It  belongs  to  all ;  and  so 
far  from  refusing  to  present  a  petition  because  it 
might  come  from  those  low  in  the  estimation  of  the 


JOHN    QUINCY  ADAMS.  211 

world,  it  would  be  an  additional  incentive,  if  such 
an  incentive  were  wanting." 

For  eight  years,  from  1836  to  1844,  John  Quincy 
Adams,  who  believed  in  fair  play,  fought  the  "  gag 
law,"  which  was  clearly  not  fair  play.  At  last,  on 
the  third  of  December,  1844,  the  majorities  against 
him,  which,  thanks  to  his  bold  and  unchanging 
stand,  had  been  growing  smaller  and  smaller, 
changed  to  a  majority  of  twenty-eight  in  his  favor, 
and  the  "  Old  Man  Eloquent "  had  won.  The 
"gag  law"  was  rescinded. 

"  Blessed,  forever  blessed  be  the  name  of  God !  " 
wrote  the  old  conqueror  who  had  fought  for  justice 
and  had  won. 

Never,  since  that  day,  has  the  right  of  petition 
been  questioned  in  the  Congress  of  the  United 
States. 

It  was  while  engaged  in  this  bitter  fight  that 
John  Quincy  Adams  made  a  statement  that  years 
after  gave  to  Abraham  Lincoln  the  ground  where- 
on to  base  his  greatest  document,  the  Emancipation 
Proclamation. 

It  was  in  the  year  1842  that  in  the  course  of  a 
speech  regarding  a  war  with  Mexico  he  pronounced 
this  opinion :  "  From  the  instant  that  your  slave- 
holding  States  become  the  theatre  of  war  —  civil, 
servile,  or  foreign  —  from  that  instant  the  war 
powers  of  the  Constitution  extend  to  interference 
with  the  institution  of  slavery  in  every  way  in 
which  it  can  be  interfered  with."  .  .  . 


212  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

And,  later,  he  repeated  this  decision  and  said 
emphatically :  "  Whether  the  war  be  servile,  civil, 
or  foreign,  I  lay  this  down  as  the  law  of  nations : 
When  a  country  is  invaded  and  two  hostile  armies 
are  set  in  martial  array,  so  far  from  its  being  true 
that  the  States  where  slavery  exists  have  the  ex- 
clusive management  of  the  subject,  not  only  the 
president  of  the  United  States,  but  the  commander 
of  the  army,  has  the  power  to  order  the  universal 
"emancipation  of  the  slaves." 

Abraham  Lincoln  was  a  member  of  Congress 
when  the  term  of  John  Quincy  Adams  was  draw- 
ing to  a  close.  This  opinion  of  the  old  slavery 
fighter  must  have  been  known  to  the  young  man 
who  was  to  slay  the  dragon  against  which  John 
Quincy  Adams  waged  such  relentless  war;  and 
that  opinion,  treasured  in  a  mind  that  never  forgot 
anything,  must  have  been  in  his  thoughts  when,  at 
a  critical  moment,  he  cut  the  Gordian  knot  and 
solved  the  problem  of  rebellion  by  emancipating, 
as  president  and  commander-in-chief,  the  slaves 
throughout  the  United  States. 

The  term  of  John  Quincy  Adams  did  indeed 
draw  to  a  close  in  a  dramatic  manner. 

It  was  the  twenty-first  of  February,  1848.  The 
old  man,  who,  two  years  before,  had  been  stricken 
by  paralysis,  still  stuck  to  his  post,  and  was  punctu- 
ally at  his  seat  in  the  Ifouse  of  Representatives.  It 
was  half-past  one  in  the  afternoon.  Some  one  had 
made  a  motion ;  the  Speaker  was  about  to  put  the 


JOHN    QUINCY   ADAMS.  213 

question,  when  there  was  a  sudden  stir  upon  the 
floor.  Mr.  Adams  rose  as  if  to  "  catch  the  Speaker's 
eye  "  for  the  purpose  of  speaking  on  the  question. 
But  he  did  not  speak.  Instead,  he  swayed  and 
fell,  while  those  about  him  cried  out  to  the  Speaker, 
"  Stop !  Stop  !  —  Mr.  Adams  !  Something  is  the 
matter  with  Mr.  Adams  !  " 

There  was  indeed.  Death  had  stricken  the  old 
warrior  for  right  on  the  very  spot  where  so  many  of 
his  battles  had  been  fought.  He  was  taken  to  the 
Speaker's  room,  but  nothing  could  be  done  for  him. 

"  This  is  the  last  of  earth ! "  he  said.  "  I  am 
content !  "  and  two  days  afterwards,  still  resting  in 
the  Speaker's  room,  he  died,  "  in  the  very  tracks  in 
which  he  had  so  often  stood  erect  and  unconquer- 
able, taking  and  dealing  so  many  mighty  blows." 

In  the  floor  of  Statuary  hall  —  in  1848  the 
chamber  of  the  House  of  Representatives — visitors 
to-day  are  shown  a  ntetal  circle  set  in  the  stones. 
"  John  Quincy  Adams.  Here,"  it  says.  It  marks 
the  spot  where  stood  the  desk  at  which  the  old 
hero  sat  when  thus  stricken  with  death.  He 
had  answered  "  Here  "  from  that  desk  for  many 
years,  and  it  was  eminently  fitting  that,  on  the  field 
of  his  battles,  in  the  midst  of  his  labors,  actually 
"  in  harness,"  the  patriot  should  have  fallen  on  his 
shield. 

His  life  had  been  a  long  and  stormy  one.  He 
was  the  first  of  what  we  may  call  "  the  great  inde- 
pendents," and,  like  all  men  who  seek  to  act  inde- 


214  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

pendently,  he  made  enemies,  pleasing  neither  friend 
nor  foe.  With  high  ideals  himself  he  tried  the 
world  by  those  ideals,  and  finding  most  men  lack- 
ing criticised  all  men  accordingly.  Neither  his 
associates  nor  his  rivals  could  appreciate  his  worth 
because  of  his  rigid  judgment,  nor  could  they 
acknowledge  his  uprightness  because  of  his  bitter 
tongue. 

To  be  thus  constituted  was,  of  course,  to  be  him- 
self lacking  in  some  things  —  courtesy,  charity, 
tact,  and  friendliness.  Yet,  in  his  family  he  was 
dearly  loved,  and  by  those  who  knew  him  best  he 
was  most  highly  regarded.  Above  all,  he  was 
honest,  courageous,  conscientious,  cool-headed,  per- 
sistent, of  remarkable  intelligence  and  remarkable 
ability. 

In  his  lifetime  he  was  the  leader  of  two  great 
political  parties,  honored  by  each  and  hated  by  each 
in  turn,  as  he  first  led  and  then  deserted  them. 
But  his  desertion  was  not  that  of  the  renegade ;  it 
was  that  of  the  reformer  who  sees  with  clearer  vision^ 
than  his  fellows  the  value  of  a  principle  rather  than 
the  demands  of  a  party. 

Misunderstood  while  he  lived,  insulted,  mis- 
judged, and  persecuted,  he  was  a  valiant  fighter 
and  gave  up  only  with  death  ;  but  he  had  but  few 
friends,  and  indeed  was,  as  one  of  his  biographers 
declares,  "  one  of  the  most  lonely  and  desolate  of 
the  great  men  of  history." 

He  was  the  son  of  a  great  father  and  a  remark- 


JOHN    QUINCY   ADAMS.  215 

able  mother,  the  member  of  a  family  which  in  three 
generations  —  father,  son,  and  grandson  —  gave  to 
the  Republic  two  presidents,  a  vice-president,  a 
secretary  of  state,  a  senator,  three  members  of 
Congress,  three  ministers  to  England,  and  envoys 
to  France,  Spain,  Holland,  and  Russia. 

To-day,  in  the  stone  temple  of  Quincy,  may  be 
seen  the  tombs  of  two  presidents,  —  father  and  son, 
—  John  Adams  and  John  Quincy  Adams,  of 
Quincy;  in  the  same  town  stand  the  birthplaces 
and  the  homes  of  each.  But,  more  lasting  still, 
the  memories  of  these  men  endure  as  valiant,  un- 
wavering, devoted,  and  consecrated  patriots  in  the 
early  days  of  the  great  Republic. 

As  we  close  this  brief  story  of  a  long  life  —  the 
life  of  one  who  heard  the  guns  of  Bunker  hill  and 
spoke  the  word  that  led  on  to  the  furled  flags  of 
Appomattox  —  it  may  be  well,  as  a  new  phase 
of  progress  beckons  the  Republic  on,  to  read 
the  words  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  uttered  nearly 
eighty  years  ago,  —  words  of  wisdom,  of  warning 
.and  of  weight:  "America,  in  the  assembly  of 
nations,  since  her  admission  among  them  has 
invariably,  though  often  fruitlessly,  held  forth  to 
them  the  hand  of  honest  friendship,  of  equal 
freedom,  of  generous  reciprocity.  .  .  .  She  has 
abstained  from  interference  in  the  concerns  of 
others,  even  when  the  conflict  has  been  for  prin- 
ciples to  which  she  clings,  as  to  the  last  vital  drop 
that  visits  the  heart.  .  .  Wherever  the  standard 


216  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

of  freedom  and  independence  has  been  or  shall  be 
unfurled,  there  will  her  heart,  her  benedictions  and 
her  prayers  be.  But  she  goes  not  abroad  in  search 
of  monsters  to  destroy.  She  is  the  well-wisher  to 
the  freedom  and  independence  of  all.  She  is  the 
champion  and  vindicator  only  of  her  own.  She 
will  recommend  the  general  cause,  by  the  counte- 
nance of  her  voice  and  the  benignant  sympathy  of 
her  example.  She  well  knows  that  by  once  en- 
listing under  other  banners  than  her  own,  were 
they  even  the  banners  of  foreign  independence,  she 
would  involve  herself,  beyond  the  power  of  extri- 
cation, in  all  the  wars  of  interest  and  intrigue,  of  in- 
dividual avarice,  envy,  and  ambition,  which  assume 
the  colors  and  usurp  the  standard  of  freedom. 
The  fundamental  maxims  of  her  policy  would  in- 
sensibly change  from  liberty  to  force.  The  front- 
let upon  her  brows  would  no  longer  beam  with  the 
ineffable  splendor  of  freedom  and  independence ; 
but  in  its  stead  would  soon  be  substituted  an  im- 
perial diadem,  flashing  in  false  and  tarnished  lustre 
the  murky  radiance  of  dominion  and  power.  She 
might  become  the  dictatress  of  the  world ;  she 
would  no  longer  be  the  ruler  of  her  own  spirit." 

"  New  occasions  teach  new  duties ;  Time  makes  ancient  good 
uncouth ; 

They  must  upward  still,  and  onward,  who  would  keep  abreast 
of  Truth ; 

Lo,  before  us  gleam  her  camp-fires !  we  ourselves  must  Pil- 
grims be, 


JOHN    QUINCY   ADAMS.  217 

Launch  our  Mayflower  and  steer  boldly  through  the  desperate 

winter  sea, 
Nor  attempt  the  Future's  portal  with  the   Past's  blood-rusted 

key." 

So  wrote  Lowell,  America's  strongest  poet.  How, 
in  the  light  of  the  new  duties  and  new  destinies 
that  seem  forming  for  America  shall  the  boys  and 
girls  of  to-day,  as  the  time  comes  for  them  to  take 
up  the  affairs  of  the  Republic,  read  the  warning  and 
wisdom  of  that  great  independent  —  John  Quincy 
Adams,  American? 


XVI. 

THE  STORY   OF   ELI    WHITNEY,    OF 
NEW  HAVEN, 

KNOWN  AS  "THE  INVENTOR  OF  THE  COTTON 
GIN." 


Born  at  Westborough,  Massachusetts,  December  8, 1765. 
Died  at  New  Haven,  Connecticut,  January  8, 1825. 


"  What  Peter  the  Great  did  to  make  Russia  dominant,  Eli 
Whitney,  inventor  of  the  cotton  gin,  has  more  than  equalled  in 
its  relation  to  the  power  and  progress  of  the  United  States."  — 
Thomas  Balington  Macaulay. 

THIS  is  the  story,  of  ingenuity  repaid  by  ingrati- 
tude. It  is  not  a  pleasing  story,  from  such  a  stand- 
point, for  it  is  never  agreeable  to  chronicle  the 
injustice  or  shortcomings  of  men.  And  yet,  as 
every  story  of  failure  or  discouragement  may  be 
made  the  forerunner  of  progress  or  success  it  is  well 
to  read  again  the  story  of  Eli  Whitney,  the  New 
England  boy  who  more  than  all  other  Americans 
may  be  charged  with  an  unconscious  responsibility 
for  the  Civil  war  and  therefore  for  the  "  New  South." 

There  gathered  one  day,  years  ago,  a  party  of  dis- 
tinguished guests  at  the  beautiful  plantation  of 
General  Greene  at  Mulberry  Grove  on  the  broad 

218 


ELI    WHITNEY.  219 

Savannah  river.  Savannah  itself,  Georgia's  chief 
city,  was  but  a  few  miles  away,  and  these  visitors  — 
planters  and  military  men  —  had  come  to  Mulberry 
Grove  to  pay  their  respects  to  Madam  Greene,  the 
widow  of  Georgia's  beloved  defender,  General 
Nathaniel  Greene,  formerly  of  Rhode  Island. 

In  that  year  of  1793  Nathaniel  Greene  was  no 
longer  alive.  Removing  in  1785  to  the  fine  estate 
of  Mulberry  Grove,  presented  to  him  by  the  State 
of  Georgia  in  grateful  recognition  of  his  gallant  de- 
fence of  her  soil  in  the  war  of  the  Revolution,  General 
Greene  had,  in  1786,  died  suddenly  of  sunstroke,  and 
his  body  lay  hi  an  unmarked  vault  in  quaint  old 
Broad-street  cemetery.  But  his  widow  still  kept 
open  house  with  gracious  hospitality  in  the  big 
mansion  amid  the  live  oaks  and  magnolias  of  Mul- 
berry Grove. 

Conversation  among  the  visitors  turned  naturally 
on  the  crops,  and  as  in  that  year  of  grace  1793  the 
agricultural  conditions  of  Georgia  were  far  from 
flourishing  the  talk  was  not  particularly  cheering. 
All  agreed,  however,  that  the  cotton  crop  might  be 
made  remunerative  and  satisfactory  if  it  did  not 
cost  so  much  in  labor  and  time  to  prepare  it  for  the 
market.  The  rice  lands  along  the  coast,  they  ad- 
mitted, were  excellent  and  promising,  but  no  real 
prosperity  could  be  hoped  for  Georgia  unless  there 
were  some  paying  crops  that  could  be  harvested 
from  the  far-stretching  uplands  and  dry  soil  back 
of  the  rice  swamps. 


220  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

"  They  grow  good  cotton,  excellent  cotton,"  one 
planter  declared,  "  but  where  is  the  use  in  grow- 
ing cotton  crops  for  sale,  when  only  a  pound  of 
green  seed-cotton  can  be  made  marketable  by  one 
man's  work  in  a  day.  It  don't  pay  for  his  keep. 
I  'm  almost  inclined  to  join  the  abolition  movement 
that  seems  to  be  growing  in  the  South  and  give  up 
keeping  negroes.  Every  slave  I  own  is  money  out 
of  my  pocket,  especially  if  I  go  on  raising  seed- 
cotton." 

The  others  agreed  with  him,  though  they  could 
not  well  see  how  they  could  throw  off  the  respon- 
sibility of  the  negro  by  simply  making  him  free. 

"We  should  have  to  support  him  even  if  we 
did  free  him,"  another  planter  declared.  "  For  he 
has  nothing  to  live  on,  and  unless  we  keep  him  on 
our  hands  he  will  die  or  become  a  menace.  Better 
keep  him  at  cleaning  seed-cotton  even  if  the  few 
cents  we  get  for  the  pound  a  day  he  cleans  is  a 
dead  loss.  But  how  it  would  change  things  here 
in  Georgia  and  the  whole  South  if  we  had  some- 
thing decent  to  separate  the  cotton  and  the  seed !  " 

"  Well,  then,  why  don't  you  go  to  work  and  get 
up  something  that  will  do  it,  gentlemen?"  ex- 
claimed Madam  Greene,  with  true  Rhode  Island 
thrift.  "  Your  shiftless  negro  folks  throw  away  or 
spoil  enough  to  keep  them  in  luxury.  Put  on 
your  thinking-caps  and  get  up  something  that  will 
do  the  work." 

"  Ah,   madam,  that 's  easier   said  than  done ! " 


ELI    WHITNEY.  221 

one  of  her  guests  replied.  "  Even  your  good  hus- 
band, the  general,  though  he  cleaned  the  redcoats 
out  of  Georgia,  couldn't  clean  the  seeds  from  the 
cotton.  I  remember  that  was  one  of  the  chief 
drawbacks  he  found  in  farming  here.  You  are 
ready  and  quick,  madam,  and  generous  too  ;  can't 
you  give  us  some  idea  ?  " 

"  No,  I  guess  I  can't,"  replied  the  Yankee 
woman  promptly.  "  But  here,  I  '11  tell  you  what  — 
just  you  apply  to  my  young  friend  yonder,  Mr. 
Whitney,  from  the  North.  He  can  make  any- 
thing. Why,  see  here  "  —  and  she  rose  impul- 
sively and  beckoned  her  guests  to  her  sewing- 
room  —  "  see  what  he  fixed  up  for  me  the  other  day. 
My  tambour  frame  was  all  out  of  kilter ;  I  could  n't 
embroider  at  all  with  it,  because  it  pulled  and  tore 
the  threads  so  badly.  Mr.  Whitney  noticed  this, 
borrowed  the  frame,  took  it  out  on  the  porch,  tink- 
ered with  it  a  little,  and  there!  see  what  he  has 
done :  just  made  the  frame  as  good  as  new,  so  that 
now  it  works  beautifully.  We  think  here  it 's  a 
wonderful  piece  of  ingenuity.  So  I  'm  certain  sure 
Mr.  Whitney  could  put  on  his  thinking-cap  over 
this  cotton-cleaning  business  to  some  good  advan- 
tage." 

"How  is  it,  Mr.  Whitney?"  cried  one  of  the  vis- 
iting planters,  seizing  the  young  Northerner  by  the 
arm.  "  Can  you  bear  out  Madam  Greene's  recom- 
mendation ?  Can't  you  think  up  something  to  help 
us?" 


222  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

"  Madam  Greene  has  too  exalted  an  opinion  of 
my  knowledge  of  mechanics,"  the  young  school- 
master replied.  "  If  you  '11  wait  long  enough  until 
I  get  out  my  law  shingle  here  I  may  quote  opinions 
or  win  law  cases  for  you ;  but  I  'm  not  really  much 
on  mechanism ;  and  as  for  cleaning  cotton-seed, 
why,  gentlemen,  I  should  n't  know  it  if  I  saw  it ! 
I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  cotton  or  cotton-seed  in 
my  life." 

"  We  '11  remedy  that,  Whitney,"  cried  his  new 
acquaintance.  "  Here,  Miller,  can't  you  show  Mr. 
Whitney  some  cotton-seed  ?  " 

"  Altogether  too  much  of  it  for  my  patience," 
laughed  Mr.  Phineas  Miller,  a  neighbor  of  Madam 
Greene's.  "  Come  over  to  my  place  to-morrow,  Mr. 
Whitney,  and  I  '11  put  you  knee-deep  into  the  tan- 
talizing stuff." 

So,  next  day,  young  Whitney  went  to  Mr.  Mil- 
ler's place.  He  studied  the  cotton-seed  and  down ; 
he  saw  the  slow,  crude  way  of  separating  the  seed 
from  the  wool;  then  he  put  on  his  thinking-cap 
and,  with  the  inspiration  of  an  idea,  accepted  the 
room  in  Mr.  Miller's  house,  offered  him  as  a  work- 
shop, and  began  to  solve  the  problem. 

How  well  and  how  speedily  he  solved  it  the 
world  knows  to-day,  for  it  is  reaping  the  benefit  of 
his  inventive  faculty.  He  was  compelled  to  make 
his  own  tools  and  draw  his  own  wire,  for  he  could 
not  find  what  he  desired  even  in  Savannah ;  but  he 
worked  steadily  on,  admitting  no  one  to  the  privacy 


ELI    WHITNEY.  223 

of  his  work-room  excepting  Mr.  Miller  and  Madam 
Greene,  and  at  last,  in  the  winter  of  1793,  he  was 
able  to  cry,  "  Eureka !  "  and  to  know  that  he  had 
thought  out  and  worked  out  that  surprising  but 
simple  invention  known  as  the  "  cotton  gin." 

"  Gin  "  is  but  a  contraction  of  the  word  "  engine." 
The  cotton  gin  means  simply  an  engine,  machine,  or 
device  for  separating  the  seeds  from  the  cotton. 
It  is  a  combination  of  cylinders,  teeth,  and  brushes 
that  tear  the  cotton  from  the  seeds  as  the  wool 
is  put  into  the  hopper,  sweep  it  off  with  brushes, 
and  hold  the  seeds  by  themselves  where  they  can- 
not follow  the  light  wool  through  the  separating 
bars.  The  gin  as  invented  by  Whitney  was  after- 
wards improved  and  developed,  but  the  underlying 
principle  is  still  the  same.  Even  in  its  original 
form  it  completely  revolutionized  the  cotton  indus- 
try ;  for,  with  Whitney's  cotton  gin,  one  man  could 
clean  in  a  single  day  five  thousand  pounds  of 
cotton  where  before  he  could  clean  but  one. 

You  may  be  sure  young  Whitney  was  very  proud 
of  his  success  when  he  exhibited  to  a  select  number 
of  Madam  Greene's  planter  friends  the  result  of  his 
experiments.  The  general's  widow  was  quite  as  de- 
lighted herself.  And  when  they  saw  how  the  young 
inventor  had  crowded  into  a  single  day's  output 
what  had  formerly  been  the  labor  of  months  the 
astonishment  of  those  Georgia  planters  was  as 
great  as  their  enthusiasm ;  for  they  realized  that 
here  was  a  machine  that  might  turn  their  cotton 


224  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

into  a  staple,  and  make  it  the  wealth  and  power 
of  the  South. 

Other  people  understood  this,  too ;  and  when,  for 
fear  of  infringements,  Whitney  refused  to  exhibit 
the  gin  or  to  make  his  invention  public,  certain  law- 
less and  unprincipled  men  broke  into  the  building 
in  which  Whitney  was  experimenting  with  his  in- 
vention, and  carrying  off  the  machine,  studied  and 
copied  it,  and  put  together  similar  gins  on  the  same 
pattern,  before  Whitney  had  been  able  to  fully  pro- 
tect himself  by  patenting  his  invention. 

Then  began  a  long  and  bitter  fight  for  the  right 
of  invention  and  possession  which  well-nigh  ruined 
the  inventor  and  his  friend  and  partner,  Phineas 
Miller.  Eli  Whitney  went  North  and  started  a  shop 
in  New  Haven  for  the  manufacture  of  his  cotton 
gin;  but  so  many  rival  machines  sprang  up,  so 
many  lawsuits  and  fights  against  infringement  fol- 
lowed, and  so  many  discouragements  and  disasters 
were  encountered,  that  business  failure  faced  the 
partners  continually.  At  last  the  young  manufact- 
urer's were  well-nigh  disheartened,  and  Whitney 
declared  that,  unless  some  relief  were  obtained,  it 
would  be  impossible  for  him  to  struggle  against  his 
embarrassments  much  longer. 

The  merchants  and  respectable  manufacturers 
and  dealers  preferred  Whitney's  gin  to  those  of  his 
unscrupulous  imitators,  and  his  invention  might 
have  brought  him  success  and  wealth  had  not  the  in- 
fringements and  stealings  been  so  numerous  as  to 


ELI    WHITNEY.  225 

almost  force  his  gin  from  the  market.  Suits  were  de- 
cided against  him  by  juries  in  league  with  rival  in- 
ventors, he  could  not  sell  the  right  to  use  the  machine 
when  others  could  be  obtained  without  the  extra 
cost  of  these  royalties,  and  those  who  had  agreed  to 
pay  for  such  rights  refused  to  do  so  when  collection 
day  came  round. 

\  Application  for  relief  was  made  to  the  Legisla- 
tures of  the  States  which  profited  by  the  invention, 
and  Whitney  arranged  to  sell  the  State  rights  to 
South  Carolina.  But,  within  a  year  after,  the 
Legislature  of  that  State  annulled  the  contract  and 
sued  for  the  money  already  paid,  while  the  other 
cotton  States  with  which  he  had  made  contracts 
did  the  same,  and  Whitney  and  Miller  were  very 
nearly  ruined. 

Miller,  in  1803,  broke  down  under  his  disap- 
pointments and  died,  leaving  Whitney  to  fight 
alone  the  battle  against  ingratitude  and  injustice. 
What  money  the  worried  inventor  could  make  he 
was  forced  to  spend  in  lawsuits  for  trespass,  and 
when  in  1812  he  applied  for  a  renewal  of  his 
patent  the  Southern  influence  was  found  to  be  so 
great  as  to  break  down  his  case,  and  his  application 
was  rejected.  Years  of  labor,  sacrifice,  struggle, 
and  loss  were  thrown  away  and  the  benefits  he 
should  have  derived  from  his  labor  were  absorbed 
or  seized  by  others.  It  was  as  sad  a  tale  of  injus- 
tice, ingratitude,  and  greed  as  can  be  found  in  the 
long  and  tragic  story  of  invention.  Every  one  ac- 


226  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

knowledged  the  debt  that  the  cotton  States  owed  to 
Eli  Whitney,  but  no  one  was  ready  to  assume  or 
repay  it,  and  his  whole  life  was  a  struggle  against 
poverty  and  dishonesty  in  the  hope  of  securing  a 
part  of  what  was  clearly  his  right.  Only  the  for- 
tunate obtaining  of  a  contract  to  manufacture  fire- 
arms for  the  government  in  the  year  1798  saved  him 
from  absolute  failure  and  want,  and  made  the  last 
years  of  his  life  successful  and  comfortable. 

He  died  in  New  Haven  on  the  eighth  of  January, 
1825,  and  there  his  monument  may  be  seen  to-day, 
bearing  this  inscription:  "ELI  WHITNEY,  the 
inventor  of  the  cotton  gin.  —  Of  useful  science  and 
arts  the  efficient  patron  and  improver.  —  In  the 
social  relations  of  life  a  model  of  excellence.  — While 
private  affection  weeps  at  his  tomb,  his  country 
honors  his  memory." 

Born  in  Massachusetts  and  educated  at  Yale 
College,  he  had  always  what  is  called  "an  inven- 
tive turn  of  mind  ;  "  the  making  of  fiddles,  watches, 
knives,  and  nails,  canes,  pins,  and  repair-work  were 
equally  attractive  to  his  tastes  as  inventor  and 
manufacturer  from  his  boyhood  on  his  father's 
farm  to  his  life  at  college.  He  drifted  South,  after 
his  graduation,  with  the  design  of  teaching,  tutor- 
ing, or  practising  law,  and  it  was  while  he  was  yet 
unsettled  in  his  choice  that  the  opportunity  came 
to  him,  at  Madam  Greene's,  to  think  out  the 
cotton  gin. 

Whether  that  was  a  "  happy  thought "  or  not  is 


ELI    WHITNEY.  227 

an  open  question.  To  him,  at  least,  it  brought 
little  else  than  vexation,  privation,  and  loss.  But 
it  brought  him  fame,  it  brought  him  experience,  it 
brought  him  the  appropriate  occupation  for  a 
wonderfully  inventive  mind,  and  as  he  had  the 
good  sense  and  wise  judgment  to  drop  his  burden 
when  at  last  it  became  more  than  he  could  bear, 
and  to  take  up  a  line  of  work  in  which  his  enter- 
prise and  mechanical  ability  alike  found  success- 
ful return,  it  may  be  that  his  harsh  experience 
strengthened  and  elevated  his  character,  as  it  cer- 
tainly did  make  his  patience  and  persistence  an 
eloquent  example. 

But  apart  from  the  personal  phase  of  the  matter 
it  is  beyond  question  that  the  invention  of  the 
cotton  gin  by  Eli  Whitney  completely  changed  the 
conditions  of  life  in  the  South  and  influenced 
the  whole  future  of  the  United  States. 

Robert  Fulton  declared  that  Arkwright  and 
Watt,  the  Englishmen,  and  Eli  Whitney,  the 
American,  were  the  three  men  who  did  the  most 
for  mankind  of  any  of  their  contemporaries.  And 
it  is  certain  that  Eli  Whitney's  cotton  gin  had  an 
incalculable  influence  upon  the  growth  and  progress 
of  the  United  States,  adding  hundreds  of  millions 
of  dollars  to  its  wealth,  while,  alas !  it  complicated 
the  slavery  problem  beyond  the  hope  of  peaceable 
solution. 

As  to  the  effect  of  Whitney's  invention  upon  the 
Southern  cotton-growhig  States  Judge  Johnson,  a 


228  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

Southern  judge  and  planter,  declared  that  "the 
whole  interior  of  the  Southern  States  was  languish- 
ing, and  its  inhabitants  emigrating  for  want  of 
some  object  to  engage  their  attention  and  employ 
their  industry,  when  the  invention  of  the  cotton 
gin  at  once  opened  views  to  them  which  set  the 
whole  country  in  active  motion.  From  childhood  to 
age,"  he  declared,  "  it  has  presented  to  us  a  lucrative 
employment.  Our  debts  have  been  paid  off,  our 
capital  has  increased,  and  our  lands  trebled  them- 
selves in  value.  We  cannot  express  the  weight  of 
the  obligation  which  the  country  owes  to  this  inven- 
tion. The  extent  of  it  cannot  now  be  seen.  .  .  . 
Our  sister  States  also  participate  in  its  benefits,  for, 
besides  affording  the  raw  material  for  their  manu- 
factures, the  bulkiness  and  quantity  of  the  article 
afford  a  valuable  employment  for  their  shipping." 
It  would  seem  that  the  man  who  brought  such 
prosperity  and  wealth  to  the  nation  should  have 
been  recognized  and  rewarded  by  it.  Instead,  his 
only  winnings  were  ingratitude  and  injustice,  his 
only  harvest  was  lawsuit  and  infringement.  The 
exports  of  cotton  from  the  United  States  rose 
because  of  Whitney's  cotton  gin  from  189,000 
pounds  in  1791  to  21,000,000  pounds  in  1801,  and 
in  1804  were  double  even  this.  In  the  first  sixty 
years  of  the  cotton  gin  this  export  increased  from 
10,000  bales  to  over  4,000,000,  while  the  actual 
annual  harvest  of  the  cotton  yield  amounted  to 
millions  of  bales  more.  * 


ELI    WHITNEY.  229 

But  time  works  its  own  revenges.  Because  of 
this  tremendous  increase  in  the  cotton  industry 
slave  labor  became  a  commercial  demand  in  the 
South,  where,  before  the  cotton  gin,  it  had  been 
simply  a  sentimental  and  tolerated  inconvenience. 
The  unpaid  labor  of  slaves  increased  the  profits 
from  the  cotton  harvested  and  ginned,  and  those 
in  the  South  who,  following  the  opinions  of 
Jefferson  and  Washington,  had  deemed  slavery 
an  evil  in  a  free  Republic  and  one  that  was 
doomed  to  speedy  abatement,  now  saw  in  it  a 
positive  good  to  the  land,  upon  the  perpetua- 
tion of  which  depended  the  growth,  the  pros- 
perity, and  even  the  very  existence  of  the  cotton 
States. 

So  through  the  years  the  peculiar  "  system " 
fastened  itself  firmer  and  more  insistently  upon  the 
South.  For  it  Calhoun  fought,  for  it  Clay  com- 
promised and  Webster  temporized,  while  against 
it  strove  John  Quincy  Adams  and  all  the  brave 
foemen  of  the  cankerous  evil,  from  his  day  to  that 
of  Lincoln  the  emancipator. 

That  idolatrous  devotion  to  a  crime  for  com- 
mercial ends  finally  plunged  the  South  into  war, 
defeat,  and  distress,  and  Eli  Whitney  was  avenged. 
Ingratitude  had  worked  its  own  overthrow. 

To-day  the  cotton  industry  of  America  is  greater 
than  ever  before.  Better  still,  the  introduction  of 
free  labor  into  its  methods  is  leading  the  South 
steadily  forward  to  a  prosperity  and  independence 


230  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

greater  than  it  ever  enjoyed  or  ever  could  have 
enjoyed  under  the  old  system. 

For  all  these  changes  Eli  Whitney  and  his 
wonderful  cotton  gin  are  largely  responsible,  and 
the  story  which  began  in  creative  ingenuity,  ran 
its  evil  course  through  injustice,  and  drenched  its 
pages  in  the  blood  of  civil  war,  ends  in  regenera- 
tion, progress,  and  prosperity.  So  Eli  Whitney, 
the  victim  of  his  own  inventive  ability,  really 
builded  better  than  he  knew ;  for  he  was  a  factor 
in  the  remaking  of  the  Republic. 


XVII. 

THE  STORY  OF  ANDREW  JACKSON,  OF 
THE  HERMITAGE, 


CALLED   "OLD   HICKOKY.' 


Born  at  the  Waxhaw  Settlement,  North  Carolina,  March  15, 1767. 
Died  at  the  Hermitage,  Tennessee,  June  8, 1845. 


"One  of  the  most  remarkable  men  America  has  produced, 
and  one  admirably  fitted  to  ride  the  storm  and  direct  the  forces 
of  the  new  democracy.  ...  A  typical  man  of  the  people, 
Andrew  Jackson  proved  himself  to  be  a  born  leader  of  men  in 
time  of  stress." —  Edward  Charming. 

THIS  is  a  story  of  photographs.  If  only  it  could 
have  a  phonographic  attachment,  so  that  you  could 
both  see  and  hear  the  man  whom  I  wish  to  show 
you,  —  "  the  most  wilful,  the  most  despotic,  the 
most  interesting  of  all  our  presidents,"  as  one  of  the 
latest  of  American  historians  denominates  Andrew 
Jackson,  of  Tennessee,  —  the  vividness,  as  well  as 
the  interest,  would  be  increased.  For  the  Jackson 
voice  was  a  part  of  the  Jackson  character. 

But  if  we  can  reproduce  his  manner,  we  may 
imagine  the  voice.  The  first  picture  is  that  of  a 
boy  of  the  hills. 

In  a  low,  rough  house  of  logs,  among  the  Caro- 

231 


232  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

lina  hills,  where  the  red  soil  of  the  Waxhaw  Settle- 
ment seemed  almost  typical  of  the  blood  and  ruin 
that  had  fallen  upon  all  that  region  in  the  merciless 
work  of  "  Tarleton's  quarter,"  a  boy,  hot  with  anger, 
stands  openly  defying  his  captor.  He  is  a  tall,  raw- 
boned,  red-haired,  freckled-faced  lad  of  fourteen, 
big  for  his  years ;  perhaps,  with  the  prophecy  in  his 
lean  but  sinewy  form  of  the  future  hardy  and 
athletic  frontiersman  of  that  rough  and  rolling  hill- 
country  of  the  Carolinas.  The  man  is  a  British 
officer,  haughty,  arrogant,  overbearing,  a  type  of 
that  conquering  race  in  whom  contact  with  the 
conquered  always  bred  contempt,  while  superiority 
of  intelligence  and  refinement  expressed  itself  in 
cruelty  rather  than  in  courtesy. 

In  this  case  the  brutalizing  spirit  of  conquest 
was  very  evident.  As  one  who  had  part  in  the 
massacre  at  the  Waxhaw  Settlements,  and  the 
slaughter  at  Hanging  Rock,  this  English  gentleman 
had  been  hardened  into  the  pitiless  soldier  and  the 
contemptuous  master. 

"  These  peasants,"  he  declared,  referring  to  the 
conquered  colonists  of  the  Carolina  highlands, 
"  have  no  rights.  They  must  be  taught  their  place 
as  low-bred  scum  and  dirty  traitors.  Here,  boy ! 
clean  this  beastly  red  mud  of  yours  from  my  boots. 
And  hark  ye,  do  it  quick!  I  'm  in  haste." 

And  he  flung  the  long  military  boots,  well  be- 
smeared with  the  red  Waxhaw  clay,  at  the  boy 
whom  the  fortunes  of  war,  or,  rather,  the  tyranny  of 


ANDREW   JACKSON.  233 

treachery,  had  made  a  captive  to  the  hated  troopers 
of  Tarleton. 

But  though  captive  this  boy  of  fourteen  was  by 
no  means  cowed. 

"  Clean  your  own  boots  !  I  'm  no  nigger  slave," 
he  cried  passionately.  "I  am  a  prisoner  of  war. 
Because  you  've  got  us  down,  you  need  n't  think 
you  can  jump  on  us  ; "  and,  stung  to  anger  by  the 
British  officer's  demand,  he  kicked  the  boots  back 
so  vindictively  that  they  caromed  on  the  English- 
man's pet  corns  and  literally  made  him  "hopping 
mad." 

He  whipped  out  his  sword  and  springing  upon 
his  plucky  and  defiant  captive  struck  viciously  at 
the  boy,  unmindful  of  consequences  or  of  that 
"  fair  play  "  which  is  so  thoroughly  an  English  trait. 
But  surprise  and  anger  had  killed  all  courtesy  in 
the  big  dragoon  officer. 

"  You  miserable  little  rebel !  You  cur  !  You 
blackguard  !  "  he  shouted.  "  How  dare  you  ?  Take 
that  for  your  impudence  —  and  that  —  and  that !  " 

Thwack  !  thwack !  the  British  sword  came  down 
upon  the  Carolina  boy  with  lunge  and  cut.  It  laid 
the  supple  wrist  open  to  the  bone  ;  under  the  shock 
of  thick  red  hair  it  left  a  cut  from  which  streamed 
the  still  redder  blood. 

Then  the  sense  of  unfairness  which  had  led  him 
to  strike  down  an  unarmed  boy  roused  the  English- 
man's drowsy  conscience,  and  he  regretted  what  he 
had  done. 


234  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

"  It  was  your  own  fault,"  was  all  he  said,  how- 
ever, as  he  kicked  the  muddy  boots  from  his  path, 
and  left  their  cleaning  to  his  servant.  So,  after 
all,  the  big  dragoon  did  not  have  his  way.  The 
boy  from  the  Waxhaws  did  not  clean  those  boots. 

But  the  scars  made  by  the  sword  of  the  brutal 
British  officer  remained  with  the  boy  through  all  his 
long  and  active  life,  and  as  he  never  forgot  so  he 
never  forgave  that  contemptuous  and  cruel  attack, 
and  he  took  good  payment  for  it  from  England's 
arrogant  power,  all  in  good  time,  and  with  interest. 
For  that  fourteen-year-old  Carolina  boy  was  Andrew 
Jackson. 

Born  in  poverty,  cradled  in  adversity,  reared  in 
ignorance,  but  with  that  strong  and  sturdy  Scotch- 
Irish  blood  running  in  his  veins,  —  that  blood  that 
has  given  so  much  in  brain  and  sinew  to  America, 
—  Andrew  Jackson  never  knew  a  father,  and  saw  a 
mother  and  brothers  die  as  the  victims  of  British 
cruelty  and  neglect.  Left  thus,  without  home  or 
family  at  fifteen,  —  an  orphan  of  the  Revolution,  — 
it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  a  hatred  of  all  things 
British  became  almost  a  part  of  the  reckless,  mis- 
chievous, resolute,  sturdy,  and  vindictive  boy  who, 
somehow,  raised  himself  from  ignorance  to  intelli- 
gence, migrated  into  the  new  lands  beyond  the 
mountains,  and  "grew  up  with  the  country"  in 
Tennessee.  Lawyer,  farmer,  and  merchant,  public 
prosecutor,  district  attorney,  member  of  Congress, 
senator,  judge,  —  thus  he  rose  to  eminence  in  the 


ANDREW  JACKSON.  235 

new  State  of  Tennessee,  where  he  was  respected  as 
able,  fearless,  honest,  and,  above  all,  ready  to  give 
and  take  the  blow  which  in  all  new  sections  has 
ever  been  the  claim  to  popularity  and  standing.  . 

Such  a  man  soon  became  an  acknowledged  leader, 
not  only  in  his  own  State  and  neighborhood,  but  in 
the  whole  section ;  so,  when  war  with  Great  Britain 
broke  out  in  1812,  Andrew  Jackson,  major-general 
of  Tennessee's  volunteer  militia,  became  major-gen- 
eral and  commander  of  the  forces  of  the  United 
States  in  the  Southwest. 

These  forces  were  not  very  great,  but  Andrew 
Jackson  advanced  to  the  command  by  vigorous 
measures  and  signal  victories  which  overthrew  and 
completely  shattered  the  Indian  rising  of  1814, 
known  as  the  Creek  war,  and  broke  the  combined 
Spanish  and  British  power  in  Florida.  He  never 
neglected  an  opportunity  to  "  chastise  "  the  British 
power  by  which  his  boyhood  had  been  made  miser- 
able, and  when,  at  last,  he  found  himself  face  to 
face,  in  January,  1815,  with  the  British  army  before 
New  Orleans  he  felt  that  his  day  of  reckoning  was 
at  hand,  and  determined  to  win  or  die. 

When  that  time  came,  when  the  British  army 
invaded  the  South,  the  hour  brought  the  man. 
"  Andrew  Jackson,"  says  Maurice  Thompson,  "  was 
a  fighter  who  fought  to  kill  and  who  would  brook 
no  interference  with  his  methods,  no  inquiries  into 
his  plans,  no  suggestions  as  to  the  extent  of  his 
authority.  Tt  chanced  that  he  was  the  right  man 


236  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

for  the  emergency;  no  other  man  could  have  saved 
New  Orleans." 

And  he  did  save  it. 

In  the  beautiful  January  weather,  when  that 
fair  sub-tropical  land  of  Southern  Louisiana  lies 
bright  and  glorious  in  the  rioting  sunshine,  there 
was  gathered  behind  a  shaky  and  uncertain  breast- 
work of  mud  and  dirt  and  useless  cotton  bales  a 
motley  army  of  barely  six  thousand  men  —  regu- 
lars, volunteer  militia,  new  levies,'  Creoles,  Yankee 
sailors,  Baratarian  pirates,  hunters,  sharpshooters, 
frontiersmen,  as  curious  a  mixture  of  old  men, 
young  men,  veterans,  and  recruits  as  one  could 
well  imagine,  armed  with  a  laughable  assort- 
ment of  weapons  from  blunderbusses  to  backwoods 
rifles,  and  marshalled  under  an  indomitable,  deter- 
mined, redcoat-hating  general.  Facing  them, 
behind  and  about  a  flimsy  fortification  of  mud 
ramparts  and  sugar-hogsheads,  was  marshalled  a 
strong  and  splendidly  disciplined  British  army  of 
fifteen  thousand  veterans  of  the  Napoleonic  wars. 

So  they  stood  awhile  —  the  invaders  and  the  de- 
fenders. Then  out  from  behind  their  defences, 
straight  on  through  the  open,  over  the  oozy  swamp- 
land and  across  the  half-filled  ditches,  came  march- 
ing a  solid  red-coated  column  of  British  soldiers, 
perfectly  drilled  and  valiantly  led. 

The  Americans  are  silent,  but  ready.  Four 
deep,  the  lines  of  picked  riflemen  and  musketeers, 
with  weapons  ready,  wait  to  get  the  range.  It 


ANDREW   JACKSON.  237 

comes  speedily;  as  nearer  and  nearer  moves  that 
gleaming  unbroken  column  of  red,  its  commander, 
General  Pakenham  himself,  leading  it  on. 

Suddenly  from  the  breastwork  of  mud  and  cot- 
ton-bales the  rifles  crack,  the  muskets  bang,  the 
supporting  batteries  boom  and  crash.  The  rifle- 
men have  the  range.  Staggered  by  the  withering 
fire,  the  British  column  shivers  and  sways,  almost 
broken  by  its  deadly  reception ;  it  wavers,  then  re- 
forms, sweeps  forward  with  a  sudden  rush,  recoils 
and  breaks,  as  a  second  volley  flashes  from  the 
American  line  and  mows  its  way  through  those 
veteran  ranks.  It  is  Bunker  hill  tactics  over  again. 

"What,  veterans  of  the  Peninsula,  conquerors 
of  Napoleon  !  will  you  break  before  raw  militia  led 
by  a  blustering  bush-fighter?  Form  again  !  Form 
again  !  One  rush  all  together  and  you  '11  tumble 
their  crazy  mud  walls  about  their  ears.  Turn 
again,  men  ;  turn  and  at  'em ! " 

With  commands  and  entreaties  the  desperate 
British  leader  reforms  his  panic-stricken  column 
and  once  more  leads  it  against  the  American  earth- 
works. 

Again  the  deadly  rifles  speak ;  again  the  with- 
ering fire  rakes  the  English  line.  But  it  stands 
firm.  Then  Pakenham,  hat  waving  above  his 
head,  urges  his  men  to  one  supreme  charge. 

"Over  the  works  or  die!"  he  cried;  and  then, 
struck  in  arm  and  thigh  and  breast  by  those  merci- 
less bullets  of  the  border  men,  the  brave  British 


238  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

leader  sways  in  his  saddle  and  dies  before  the  works 
are  reached. 

Still  the  advance  continues.  But  now  all  the 
American  guns  are  in  action,  from  the  overcharged 
thirty-two  pounders  in  the  battery  to  the  old  horse- 
pistol  in  the  hand  of  some  green  recruit.  In  one 
terrible,  fearful  fire,  as  fearful  as  ever  burst  from  a 
repelling  line,  the  guns  of  border  State  men,  Creoles, 
and  pirates  pour  their  hail  of  death  into  the  British 
columns,  while  up  and  down  the  American  line 
marches  the  grim,  relentless,  cool,  and  commanding 
leader,  avenging  the  death  of  his  mother  and  his 
brother,  wiping  out  in  blood  the  disgrace  that  had 
fallen  upon  his  boyhood  in  that  Carolina  hill  hut 
thirty  years  before. 

"  Give  it  to  'em,  boys !  Blow  'em  up,  boys ! 
Show  the  redcoats  how  an  American  fights,"  he 
shouts.  And  the  redcoats  learned.  Their  mar- 
shalled columns  break,  shattered  under  that  ter- 
rible fire,  and,  at  last,  with  fully  two  thousand 
dead  and  wounded  strewing  the  ground,  with  their 
leaders  killed,  their  officers  picked  off  by  rifleman 
and  sharpshooter,  the  British  turn  in  flight,  the 
South  is  saved,  and  Andrew  Jackson  has  made  his 
name  forever  famous  as  the  victor  of  New  Orleans 
—  victor,  with  but  eight  men  killed  and  thirteen 
wounded.  The  Creek  war  and  the  battle  of  New 
Orleans  made  Andrew  Jackson  president  of  the 
United  States. 

For  they  did  make  him  president.     Although  a 


ANDREW   JACKSON.  239 

dozen  years  passed  between  the  victory  at  New 
Orleans  and  the  presidential  election  of  1828  the 
fame  of  Andrew  Jackson  grew  stronger  through 
the  years.  He  was  very  nearly  elected  in  1824,  and 
when,  four  years  later,  a  presidential  campaign  was 
again  'fought  Jackson  was  elected  president  over 
John  Quincy  Adams  by  an  electoral  vote  of  178  to 
83  —  more  than  two  to  one.  He  was  a  popular 
hero. 

One  or  two  other  pictures  of  the  man  between 
those  years  of  indignity  and  revenge  I  should  like 
to  show  you. 

One  is  on  the  battlefield  of  Talluschatchee,  where 
Jackson  broke  the  power  of  the  Creeks.  Disaster 
and  death  had  overtaken  the  hostile  Indians.  Hun- 
dreds of  dead  and  dying  lay  upon  the  field  ;  throngs 
of  disconsolate  prisoners  were  forced  into  the  white 
man's  camp.  From  the  arms  of  a  dead  Indian 
mother  a  little  child  was  taken,  and  as  he  inspected 
the  prisoners  Jackson  saw  the  Indian  baby,  and, 
humane  in  victory,  tried  to  save  it. 

But  no  Creek  mother  would  take  the  baby. 
"  Why  save  him  ? "  they  replied  to  the  general's 
command.  "  His  people  are  dead ;  his  wigwam  is 
empty ;  his  father  was  a  brave  and  died  with  his 
face  to  the  foe.  Let  him  die  too.  Kill  the  warrior's 
son  now ;  it  is  best." 

Then  the  general  swore  a  mighty  oath. 

"  That  boy  shall  live,"  he  said,  "  even  if  I  have 
to  'tend  him  myself.  Take  him  to  my  tent." 


240  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

The  camp  was  bare  of  supplies.  Lack  of  rations, 
that  bugbear  of  every  war  and  the  foemen's  greatest 
ally,  had  bred  almost  a  famine,  and  the  general's 
larder  was  as  lean  as  the  rest.  But  a  little  brown 
sugar  was  discovered,  and  with  this,  mixed  with 
water,  the  general  kept  the  Indian  baby  alive  until 
he  could  send  it  to  the  settlements.  There  it  was 
cared  for  at  his  expense  until  his  return  to  his 
home,  —  the  Hermitage,  —  where  Mrs.  Jackson, 
good  motherly  soul,  took  it  in  at  once,  and  she  and 
the  general  "  raised "  Linconyer,  as  they  called 
their  Indian  "  son,"  educating  him,  loving  him,  and 
caring  for  him  until  his  death  from  consumption 
when  he  had  grown  to  be  seventeen  years  old,  and 
very  dear  to  the  general  and  "  Aunt  Rachel." 

Another  photograph  is  of  the  harsh  but  loving 
soldier,  as  he  leaves  the  Hermitage  —  the  home  he 
had  built  for  his  dearly  loved  "  Rachel  "  -  to  enter 
the  White  House  as  president  of  the  United 
States.  Alas  !  he  is  to  go  alone.  For  kindly  "  Aunt 
Rachel "  is  dead.  She  whom  the  general  had 
defended  from  slander,  rescued  from  ill-treatment, 
loved,  married,  and  fought  for  had  died  just  as 
the  husband  of  whom  she  was  so  proud  had 
reached  the  pinnacle  of  ambition  and  of  fame.  She 
died  on  the  very  day  set  by  the  people  of  Nash- 
ville for  a  jubilee  over  the  general's  election.  The 
jubilee  was  changed  to  mourning,  and  Andrew 
Jackson  never  recovered  from  the  loss  of  his  dearly 
loved  wife.  It  saddened  all  the  rest  of  his  life. 


ANDREW   JACKSON.  241 

Knowing  this,  does  it  not  give  a  peculiar  interest 
to  the  picture  I  wish  to  present  you  here  in  the 
words  of  old  Alfred,  —  Jackson's  last  surviving 
slave,  —  as  standing  beside  the  temple-like  mauso- 
leum in  the  garden  of  the  Hermitage  within  which 
lies  the  dust  of  Andrew  Jackson  and  his  faithful 
wife  he  showed  to  some  Northern  visitors  a  few 
years  ago  the  willows  that  shade  the  Jackson  tomb. 

"  Dese  yer  willows  wuz  planted  by  Gin'ral  Jack- 
son," said  Alfred.  "  Ole  Mis'  she  jis'  done  buried 
and  de  trunks  wuz  all  packed  fer  to  go  to  Washing- 
ton, and  Gin'ral  Jackson  he  went  right  off  yander 
beyond  the  quarters  and  cut  four  willow  switches. 
Den  he  come  down  yar,  an'  he  tuk  his  knife  and 
made  a  hole  and  stuck  one  on  'em  at  each  corner, 
jes'  as  you  see  'em,  and  dey  growed  every  one  on 
'em  'cept  dat  ar'  one  yander  what  was  struck  by 
lightnin' ;  and  dere  dey  is  now.  Den  when  he  done 
planted  dem  willow  switches  de  ole  gin'ral  went 
back  to  de  house  to  get  in  his  carriage,  fer  to  go  to 
Washington.  An'  he  look  down  yer  to  old  Mis' 
grabe  and  he  look  at  de  house  jes'  like  good-by, 
and  he  done  tuk  off  his  hat  to  de  house,  jes'  like 
it  was  a  lady ;  and  den  he  dribe  away." 

You  all  know  what  a  dramatic,  stormy  adminis- 
tration those  eight  years  of  President  Andrew  Jack- 
son made.  No  man  was  more  devotedly  followed ; 
none  was  ever  more  cordially  hated.  Absolutely 
fearless,  vigorous  in  methods,  quick  in  action,  em- 
phatic in  speech,  if  Andrew  Jackson  thought  a 


242  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

thing  should  be  done  he  did  it,  careless  of  conse- 
quences. 

Let  me  show  you  one  other  picture  —  this  is  of 
President  Andrew  Jackson. 

In  a  little  room  on  the  second  floor  of  the  White 
House,  at  Washington,  the  tall,  gaunt,  grizzled, 
lonely  old  man  of  sixty-six  sat  smoking  his  corn- 
-cob pipe,  something  that  even  the  dignity  of  the 
presidency  could  not  induce  him  to  give  up.  The 
old  soldier's  face  was  troubled,  for  disturbing  news 
had  come  to  him  from  that  most  disturbing  section 
-  South  Carolina.  The  hot  little  State,  inflamed 
over  certain  obnoxious  tariff  laws,  had  declared  that 
the  acts  of  Congress  imposing  them  were  null  and 
void  and  expressed  its  determination  to  resist  their 
enforcement.  As  he  sat  in  his  little  room,  smoking 
and  thinking,  a  messenger  entered  with  the  latest 
tidings.  They  were  certainly  disturbing.  The  Leg- 
islature of  South  Carolina  had  met ;  it  had  passed 
laws  contrary  to  and  subversive  of  those  of  Con- 
gress. The  governor  was  authorized  to  call  out  the 
militia,  equip  and  arm  them,  strengthen  the  defences 
of  the  State,  and  prepare  to  resist  the  authority  of 
the  Federal  government  and  the  president  of  the 
United  States. 

When  Andrew  Jackson  read  this  defiance  of 
South  Carolina  all  the  patriotism  and  all  the  pas- 
sion in  his  nature  burst  into  action.  He  sprang 
to  his  feet;  he  dashed  his  corn-cob  pipe  to  the 
floor. 


ANDREW   JACKSON.  243 

"  By  the  Eternal, "  he  said,  "  the  Union  must 
and  shall  be  preserved !  Send  for  General  Scott." 

Swiftly  the  preparations  were  made.  General 
Scott  was  at  once  despatched  to  Charleston ;  sol- 
diers and  sailors  were  disposed  so  as  to  be  ready 
for  instant  action. 

Then  he  went  again  to  his  little  room,  seized  the 
big  steel  pen  which  was  his  favorite  aid  in  writ- 
ing, and,  drawing  the  sheets  before  him,  dashed  off 
page  after  page  of  a  proclamation  to  South  Caro- 
lina, the  words  of  which  are  ringing  yet  as  a  chal- 
lenge to  treason  and  a  plea  for  peace. 

So  rapidly  did  he  write  that  a  new  page  would 
be  completed  before  the  ink  was  dry  on  the  page 
that  preceded  it ;  he  threw  into  it  the  glow  of  his 
patriotism,  the  intensity  of  his  passion,  the  fervor 
of  his  determination  to  keep  the  Union  intact,  and 
when  one  of  his  advisers  suggested  a  change  or 
toning  down  of  one  passage  the  general  refused. 

"  No,  sir  !  "  he  said  decidedly.  "  Those  are 
my  views  and  I  will  not  change  them  nor  strike 
them  out." 

That  proclamation  and  the  president's  prompt 
action  crushed  the  rebellious  attempts  of  the  "  Nul- 
lifiers,"  as  the  South  Carolina  hot-heads  were  called. 
The  country  approved ;  South  Carolina  receded ; 
and  the  Union  was  preserved  by  "  Old  Hickory," 
as  the  general  was  called,  from  the  tough  and  un- 
bending nature  of  his  imperious  will. 

"  I  have  had  a  laborious  task,"  said  the  wearied 


244  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

but  determined  old  man,  after  that  historic  episode 
was  over,  "  but  nullification  is  dead,  and  its  actors 
and  courtiers  will  only  be  remembered  by  the  peo- 
ple to  be  execrated  for  their  wicked  designs  to  sever 
and  destroy  the  only  good  government  on  the  globe. 
.  .  .  The  free  people  of  the  United  States  have 
spoken  and  consigned  these  demagogues  to  their 
proper  doom.  Take  care  of  the  Nullifiers  you  have 
among  you.  Let  them  meet  the  indignant  frowns  of 
every  man  who  loves  his  country.  .  .  .  The  tariff 
was  only  a  pretext ;  disunion  and  the  Southern  con- 
federacy were  the  real  object." 

From  this  you  can  see  that  the  old  general  was 
a  good  deal  of  a  prophet  as  well  as  patriot. 

Just  such  prompt  and  vigorous  measures,  too,  did 
he  bring  to  whatever  needed  instant  attention.  With 
the  same  sternness  with  which  he  crushed  nullifi- 
cation he  demolished  the  institution  called  the 
United  States  Bank,  in  which  he  did  not  believe, 
and  which  he  considered  a  menace  to  the  Republic ; 
he  brought  England  to  terms ;  he  made  France  pay 
a  just  but  delayed  indebtedness  ;  he  settled  disputes 
of  long  standing  with  Spain  and  Denmark ;  he 
forced  Europe  to  recognize  and  admit  the  strength 
and  importance  of  the  United  States  as  a  nation. 

He  was  impulsive ;  he  was  hot-headed ;  he  was 
obstinate.  He  was  the  soldier  in  office,  knowing 
no  master  save  his  own  will,  which,  however,  he 
declared,  was  the  will  of  the  people.  It  did  ap- 
pear to  be  so ;  for  the  majority  of  the  people  believed 


ANDREW   JACKSON.  245 

so  thoroughly  in  Andrew  Jackson  that  his  two  terms 
as  president  were  the  most  effective  and  the  most 
popular  of  all  the  administrations  up  to  this  day, 
and  in  all  the  history  of  the  Republic  Jackson  was 
the  only  president  who  retired  from  office  more 
popular  than  when  he  went  in. 

Despotic,  unyielding,  masterful,  but  honest,  lov- 
ing, and  sincere,  he  was  as  loyal  to  his  friends  as  he 
was  vindictive  to  his  foes,  and  yet,  on  his  death- 
bed, he  freely  forgave  all  his  enemies  —  "  excepting 
those,"  he  specified,  "  who  slandered  my  '  Rachel ' ;  " 
and  "  Rachel "  had  been  dead  for  fully  twenty 
years. 

A  boy  of  the  "  piney  woods "  region  of  the 
South,  bluff  and  boisterous  but  never  a  coward,  the 
life  of  Andrew  Jackson  was  a  continuous  progress 
from  small  beginnings  to  a  great  future.  Farmer 
boy,  soldier  boy,  saddler's  apprentice,  law-student, 
horse-trainer,  lawyer,  frontiersman,  prosecuting 
attorney,  land-speculator,  State  constitution-maker, 
congressman,  senator,  judge,  storekeeper,  farmer, 
boatbuilder,  wholesale  merchant,  cotton  planter, 
stock-raiser,  militia  officer,  general,  conqueror  of 
Indians,  Spaniards,  and  British,  governor  of  Florida, 
United  States  senator,  presidential  candidate,  and 
twice  president  of  the  United  States,  —  this  was  the 
life  record  of  Andrew  Jackson,  of  Tennessee,  hero 
by  popular  acclaim.  It  was  a  record  of  steady 
progress  through  seventy-eight  years  of  busy  life, 
marked,  again  and  again,  by  all  those  dramatic 


246  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

incidents  and  fiery  outbursts  that  made  him  at  once 
a  terror  and  a  triumph. 

Says  one  energetic  soldier  and  worker  of  to-day, 
Colonel  and  Governor  Theodore  Roosevelt,  of  New 
York  and  Santiago  fame :  "  To  a  restless  and  un- 
tiring energy  Jackson  united  sleepless  vigilance 
and  genuine  military  genius.  ...  In  after 
years  he  did  to  his  country  some  good  and  more 
evil ;  but  no  true  American  can  think  of  his  deed 
at  New  Orleans  without  profound  and  unmixed 
thankfulness." 

"  It  was,"  says  Professor  Channing,  "  a  most 
important  day  for  the  Unjted  States  and  the  Ameri- 
can people  when,  under  Andrew  Jackson's  lead,  the 
forces  of  Democracy  adopted  the  idea  of  the  sov- 
ereignty of  the  people  of  the  United  States." 

It  helped  then,  as  it  helped  in  an  even  more 
trying  time,  to  save  the  Union  that  Andrew 
Jackson  so  passionately  loved,  and  it  is  well  for 
young  Americans  to  remember  that  it  was  because 
Andrew  Jackson  was  so  brave,  outspoken,  deter- 
mined, and  resolute  that  he  silenced  all  opposition 
and  triumphed  over  all  enemies  ;  and  that,  with  it 
all,  beneath  a  tender  heart  he  possessed  a  stern  and 
inflexible  honesty  that  rose  almost  to  greatness 
and  made  him  for  all  time  a  typical  and  historic 
American. 


XVIII. 

THE   STORY  OF    DANIEL   WEBSTER,   OF 
MARSHFIELD, 

CALLED    THE    "EXPOUNDER    OF     THE 
CONSTITUTION." 


Born  at  Salisbury,  New  Hampshire,  January  18, 1782. 
Died  at  Marshfleld,  Massachusetts,  October  24, 1852. 


"  So  long  as  the  Union  of  these  States  endures  or  holds  a 
place  in  history  the  name  of  Daniel  Webster  will  be  honored 
and  remembered,  and  his  stately  eloquence  find  an  echo  in  the 
hearts  of  his  countrymen." — Henry  Cabot  Lodge. 

IT  was  the  opening  year  of  the  new  century  and 
the  citizens  of  Hanover  determined  to  celebrate 
the  Fourth  of  July,  1800,  in  fitting  and  appropriate 
style.  There  was  a  muster,  a  procession,  and  a 
banquet ;  there  were  salutes  and  noise  and  fire- 
works. The  Declaration  of  Independence  was  to 
be  read,  and  of  course  there  was  to  be  a  Fourth  of 
July  oration. 

Now,  the  town  of  Hanover  in  New  Hampshire 
was,  and  is  still,  a  college  town.  Dartmouth  Col- 
lege has  trained  and  sent  forth  many  solid,  able, 
and  brilliant  Americans,  whose  names  adorn  the 
walks  of  all  occupations,  professions,  and  successes. 
247 


248  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

The  town  of  Hanover  is  proud  of  Dartmouth  Col- 
lege and  of  the  men  whom  she  has  educated.  So 
when,  in  1800,  an  orator  was  to  be  selected  for  the 
Fourth  of  July  oration  the  citizen  turned  at  once 
to  the  college  for  the  orator. 

"  They  say  there 's  a  youngster  up  at  the  college 
that 's  a  master-hand  at  speaking,"  one  of  the  select- 
men said,  as  they  talked  it  over  with  the  minister 
and  the  schoolmaster ;  "  he 's  Cap'n  Webster's  son, 
—  Judge  Webster,  I  mean,  from  up  Salisbury  way." 

"  Comes  of  good  stock,"  another  of  the  select- 
men remarked.  "  Cap'n  Webster  was  the  only  man 
Washington  said  he  could  trust  when  Arnold  cut 
up  his  didoes,  and  I  have  heard  that  the  cap'n  — 
he 's  judge  now,  as  you  say  —  just  skimped  him- 
self and  all  his  family  to  give  this  boy  an  educa- 
tion. Doing  well,  is  he  ?  " 

"  So  I  hear,"  his  associate  replied.  "  They  do 
say  that  this  youngster  —  Dan'l,  I  think  his  name 
is  —  Dan'l  Webster,  that 's  it  —  knows  more  'n  some 
of  his  teachers  up  to  the  college,  and  when  it  comes 
to  speaking  pieces  —  well !  there  's  just  nobody  that 
can  beat  him." 

"  Well,  if  that 's  so,  I  say  we  ask  him,"  said  the 
other  selectman.  "  He  can't  any  more  'n  fail. 
How  old  is  he  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  He  is  pretty  young,  and  that 's  a  fact ;  he  's  only 
about  eighteen,"  the  advocate  of  the  boy  orator 
admitted.  "  But,  there  now !  What 's  that  amount 
to  ?  Somebody 's  got  to  hear  the  beginnings,  and 


DANIEL    WEBSTER.  249 

what's  the  difference  how  old  a  preacher  or  a 
speaker  is,  if  he 's  got  the  gift  ?  " 

The  young  Dartmouth  student  who  was  the  sub- 
ject of  this  discussion  did  surely  have  the  gift. 
This,  committee  and  audience  speedily  discovered 
when  on  that  Fourth  of  July,  in  the  year  1800, 
Daniel  Webster,  of  Salisbury,  stood  before  them  to 
deliver  his  oration. 

Tall  and  thin,  dark-hued  and  raven-haired,  with 
the  high  cheek-bones  of  an  Indian,  and  eyes  so 
black,  deep-set,  and  searching  that  the  boys  nick- 
named him  "  All  eyes,"  this  boy  of  eighteen  was 
neither  strong  looking  nor  "pretty  appearing,"  as 
the  old  ladies  declared ;  but  there  was  in  his  look, 
his  attitude,  and  his  bearing  something  that  at- 
tracted all  his  hearers  as  he  rose  to  speak,  while 
his  voice,  wonderfully  deep-toned,  melodious,  and 
strong,  captivated  and  held  them  ere  he  had  com- 
pleted his  first  paragraph.  The  committee  looked 
at  each  other  approvingly,  and  the  advocate  of 
"young  Dan'l"  nudged  his  associate  and  whispered, 
"  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  youngster 's  a  born  orator !  "  replied 
the  now  convinced  selectman,  nodding  his  head  in 
approval. 

The  selectman  was  right.  Daniel  Webster,  col- 
legian, lawyer,  senator,  statesman,  was  a  born  orator. 
And  even  in  that  boyish  Fourth  of  July  oration  at 
Hanover,  crude,  high-flown,  florid,  and 'sophomoric 
effort  though  it  was,  he  displayed  at  once  his  latent 


250  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

power,  his  commanding  eloquence,  his  marvellous 
diction,  and  yet  more  marvellous  voice  —  above  all, 
his  intense  patriotism  and  belief  in  America ;  qual- 
ities which  were  to  make  him,  in  later  years,  the 
greatest  of  American  orators,  the  man  who  was  to 
leave  to  his  countrymen  and  the  world,  as  Mr. 
Schurz  asserts,  "invaluable  lessons  of  statesman- 
ship, right,  and  patriotism." 

The  recollection  of  that  Fourth  of  July  oration 
lived  long  with  those  who  heard  it.  The  spell  of 
voice  and  manner,  even  more  than  of  the  word  and 
matter,  fell  upon  the  listening  throng,  and  even  in 
their  old  age  men  would  refer  to  it  as  one  of  the 
memories  of  their  youth. 

"  I  heard  Dan'l  Webster's  first  speech,  in  Han- 
over, away  back  in  1800,"  they  would  boast,  "and 
I  declare,  he  never  did  anything  finer  or  was  more 
patriotic  than  he  was  in  that  speech,  and  he  was  n't 
more  than  eighteen.  It  was  wonderful,  I  tell  you." 

It  was  not  really  so  wonderful,  of  course,  and 
Webster,  certainly,  did  do  many  things  finer.  The 
recollections  of  youth  receive  in  age  a  tinge  and 
glory  that  later  experience  lack ;  but  it  may  never- 
theless be  said,  as  Mr.  Lodge  claims,  that  in  that 
youthful  oration  of  Daniel  Webster  there  was  "  the 
same  message  of  love  of  country,  national  greatness, 
fidelity  to  the  Constitution,  and  the  necessity  and 
nobility  of  the  union  of  the  States,  which  the  man 
Webster  delivered  to  his  fellow-men."  In  Daniel 
Webster,  the  boy,  lived  the  prophecy  of  a  new  era 


DANIEL    WEBSTER.  251 

and  a  new  generation  in  the  men  and  measures  of 
the  Republic. 

Daniel  Webster  was  born  in  Salisbury,  or  what 
is  now  Franklin,  in  New  Hampshire,  on  the  eigh- 
teenth of  January,  1782.  His  father  was  a  veteran 
of  the  Revolution,  a  hard-working  farmer  who, 
because  of  his  integrity,  influence,  and  force,  was 
made  by  his  neighbors  judge  of  the  County  Court. 
His  mother  was  a  noble  New  Hampshire  woman,  the 
equal  of  her  husband  in  pluck,  determination,  and 
willing  self-sacrifice.  From  these  qualities  in  the 
parents  came  the  boy's  deliberate  growth  in  great- 
ness ;  for  they  sacrificed  everything  to  give  him  an 
education ;  and  the  puny,  sickly  boy  baby  whom  no 
one  in  the  neighborhood  believed  his  parents  could 
"  raise,"  who  learned  his  Constitution  by  heart 
from  the  cheap  little  handkerchief  on  which  it  was 
printed,  and  who  when  he  went  to  school  at  Exeter 
could  not  speak  "  pieces,"  because  he  was  so  shy, 
became,  at  last,  head  of  his  class  at  Exeter,  "  prize 
student "  at  Dartmouth,  the  foremost  man  in  the 
college,  Fourth  of  July  orator,  in  demand  as  a  pub- 
lic speaker  even  before  he  was  twenty,  and  a  lawyer 
in  New  Hampshire,  practising  in  his  proud  father's 
court,  and  winning  reputation  and  income  before  he 
was  twenty-three.  When,  in  1806,  his  overworked, 
self-sacrificing  father  died  it  was  with  the  knowl- 
edge that  his  efforts  had  not  been  in  vain,  and  that 
his  son  Daniel  would  not  be  a  failure,  but  a  success. 

A  success  he  certainly  was.     He  established  him- 


252  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

self  in  Portsmouth,  winning  rapidly  both  reputa- 
tion and  fame.  He  became  a  politician  of  clear 
perception,  broad  views,  and  intense  patriotism,  and 
was  sent  to  Congress  from  New  Hampshire  in  1813, 
where  he  was  at  once  placed  on  its  most  important 
committee,  that  of  Foreign  Relations.  There  his 
wonderful  gift  of  oratory  and  his  remarkable  power 
of  getting  at  the  heart  of  things  at  once  won  rec- 
ognition; there,  in  his  first  session,  he  foresaw  and 
advocated  the  real  power  that  won  the  battles  of 
the  war  of  1812  and  grew  into  the  force  that  has 
made  history  for  the  Republic  from  the  days  of 
Hull  to  those  of  Farragut  and  Dewey  and  Samp- 
son —  the  navy  of  the  United  States. 

"  If  the  war  must  continue,"  he  said,  "  go  to  the 
ocean.  If  you  are  seriously  contending  for  mari- 
time rights  go  to  the  theatre  where  alone  those 
rights  can  be  defended.  Thither  every  indication 
of  your  fortune  points  you.  There  the  united 
wishes  and  exertions  of  the  nation  will  go  with  you. 
Even  our  party  divisions,  acrimonious  as  they  are, 
cease  at  the  water's  edge." 

Was  not  that  a  prophetic  utterance  ?  It  was 
true  in  1813  ;  it  was  true  in  1898. 

To  better  himself  in  his  practice,  Webster  re- 
moved to  Boston  in  1817,  and  from  that  time,  for 
nearly  forty  years,  he  became  a  "  favorite  son  "  of 
Massachusetts.  The  old  Bay  State  sent  him  to 
Congress  in  1823 ;  in  1827  she  sent  him  to  the 
Senate.  For  twenty-eight  years  he  was  Massachu- 


DANIEL    WEBSTER.  253 

setts'  foremost  representative  in  the  councils  of 
the  nation,  broken  only  by  two  seasons  of  service 
as  secretary  of  state  under  Presidents  Harrison 
and  Fillmore. 

It  was  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States  that 
his  greatest  victories  were  won.  It  was  before  that 
body  that,  on  the  twenty-sixth  of  January,  1830,  he 
made  what  has  been  styled  "the  greatest  speech 
since  Demosthenes,"  his  famous  reply  to  Hayne,  his 
"  Liberty  and  Union "  speech,  which,  so  says  Mr. 
Schurz,  "  remained  the  watchword  of  American 
patriotism,  and  still  reverberated  thirty  years  later 
in  the  thunders  of  the  Civil  war.  That  glorious 
speech,"  declares  Mr.  Schurz,  "continues  to  hold 
the  first  place  among  the  monuments  of  American 
oratory."  "  It  sank,"  so  says  Mr.  Lodge,  "  into  the 
hearts  of  the  people  and  became  unconsciously  'a 
part  of  their  life  and  daily  thoughts."  Let  us  read 
once  more  the  story  of  that  famous  speech. 

It  is  not  necessary,  here,  to  detail  the  causes  of 
that  great  oration.  Out  of  an  insignificant  question 
concerning  the  sale  of  public  lands  had  grown  a 
discussion  as  to  the  powers  of  the  State  and  national 
governments.  It  was  the  time  when  the  struggle 
between  State  sovereignty  and  national  supremacy 
was  fierce,  both  in  and  out  of  Congress,  and  the 
senator  from  South  Carolina,  Mr.  Hayne,  availed 
himself  of  the  opportunity  afforded  by  the  discus- 
sion to  arraign  the  State  of  Massachusetts,  crush 
its  chief  representative,  Mr.  Webster,  and  establish 


254  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

the  right  of  the  States  to  interfere  with  and  over- 
ride, for  their  own  benefit,. the  national  government, 
even  the  Constitution  itself. 

Mr.  Hayne's  invective  was  a  strong,  forcible, 
intense,  and  personal  speech,  which  for  two  days 
occupied  the  attention  of  the  Senate  and  awakened 
all  the  fears  and  forebodings  of  the  supporters  of  the 
Constitution ;  for  it  seemed  to  them  unanswerable. 

But  it  aroused  one  who  would  admit  that  no 
attack  upon  the  Constitution  and  the  Union  should 
be  allowed  to  go  unanswered. 

"  It  is  a  critical  moment,  Mr.  Webster,"  said  Mr. 
Bell,  of  New  Hampshire,  as  on  the  morning  of  the 
twenty-sixth  of  January,  1830,  he  met  the  sen- 
ator from  Massachusetts  on  his  way  to  the  Capitol. 
"  It  is  time,  it  is  high  time  that  the  people  of  this 
country  should  know  what  this  Constitution  is." 

"  Then,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Webster,  "  by  the  bless- 
ing of  Heaven  they  shall  learn,  this  day,  before 
the  sun  goes  down,  what  I  understand  it  to  be." 

Then  he  passed  into  the  Senate  chamber,  packed 
to  the  doors  by  an  expectant  and  eager  throng  who 
knew  that,  on  that  day,  Daniel  Webster  was  to  take 
up  the  gage  that  the  champion  of  disunion  had 
thrown  down  and  was  to  fight  for  the  supremacy 
of  the  Union  under  the  Constitution. 

Slowly  he  rose,  quietly  he  began.  The  latent 
fires  of  patriotism  and  national  love  which  were 
burning  so  fiercely  in  his  heart  did  not  at  first  burst 
into  flame. 


DANIEL     WEBSTER.  255 

"  Mr.  President,"  he  said,  "  when  the  mariner  has 
been  tossed  for  many  days  in  thick  weather  and  on 
an  unknown  sea  he  naturally  avails  himself  of  the 
first  pause  in  the  storm,  the  earliest  glance  of  the 
sun,  to  take  his  latitude  and  ascertain  how  far  the 
elements  have  driven  him  from  his  true  course. 
Let  us  imitate  this  prudence ;  and  before  we  float 
farther  on  the  waves  of  this  debate,  refer  to  the 
point  from  which  we  departed,  that  we  may,  at 
least,  be  able  to  conjecture  where  we  are.  I  ask 
for  the  reading  of  the  resolution  before  the 
Senate." 

The  tense  excitement  of  both  supporters  and 
opponents,  strained  in  expectancy  as  the  orator 
arose  to  speak,  was  calmed  and  restrained  by  this 
simple  and  quiet  opening.  Then  by  the  time  the 
clerk  had  read  the  original  resolution  from  which 
all  this  discussion  and  excitement  had  sprung  this 
consummate  orator  had  alike  himself,  his  auditors, 
and  his  subject  well  in  hand  and  could  control  each 
as  it  suited  him. 

Gradually  he  gave  his  thought  words;  and 
these,  growing  in  intensity  and  eloquence  as  he 
proceeded,  soon  captured  friend  and  foe  alike  ;  till, 
holding  that  great  audience  enthralled  by  his  match- 
less voice  and  spellbound  by  his  magnificent  peri- 
ods, he  struck  at  the  doctrines  advanced  by  Hayne 
with  so  sure  a  blow  and  carried  forward  the  banner 
of  union  so  triumphantly  that,  as  Mr.  Lodge  says, 
"  as  the  last  words  died  away  into  silence  those  who 


256  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

had  listened  looked  wonderingly  at  each  other, 
dimly  conscious  that  they  had  heard  one  of  the 
grand  speeches  which  are  landmarks  in  the  history 
of  eloquence." 

Not  alone  in  the  crowded  Capitol  was  the  effect 
of  that  great  speech  almost  beyond  expression. 
"As  his  words  went  over  the  land,"  says  Mr. 
Schurz,  "  the  national  heart  bounded  with  joy  and 
broke  out  in  enthusiastic  acclamations.  At  that 
moment  Webster  stood  before  the  world  as  the  first 
of  living  Americans." 

What  school  boy  does  not  know,  what  American 
heart  does  not  thrill,  over  that  matchless  defence  of 
his  beloved  Bay  State  ?  — 

"Mr.  President,  I  shall  enter  on  no  encomium 
upon  Massachusetts ;  she  needs  none.  There  she 
is !  Behold  her  and  judge  for  yourselves.  There  is 
her  history ;  the  world  knows  it  by  heart.  The 
past  at  least  is  secure.  There  is  Boston  and  Con- 
cord and  Lexington  and  Bunker  hill;  and  there 
they  will  remain  forever.  The  bones  of  her  sons, 
falling  in  the  great  struggle  for  independence,  now 
lie  mingled  with  the  soil  of  every  State  from  New 
England  to  Georgia;  and  there  they  will  lie  for- 
ever. And,  sir,  where  American  liberty  raised  its 
first  voice,  and  where  its  youth  was  nurtured  and 
sustained,  there  it  still  lives,  in  the  strength  of  its 
manhood  and  full  of  its  original  spirit.  If  discord 
and  disunion  shall  wound  it,  if  party  strife  and 
blind  ambition  shall  hawk  at  and  tear  it,  if  folly 


DANIEL    WEBSTER.  257 

and  madness,  if  uneasiness  under  salutary,  and  nec- 
essary restraint,  shall  succeed  in  separating  it  from 
that  Union  by  which  alone  its  existence  is  made 
sure,  it  will  stand  in  the  end  by  the  side  of  that 
cradle  in  which  its  infancy  was  rocked ;  it  will 
stretch  forth  its  arm  with  whatever  of  vigor  it  may 
still  retain  over  the  friends  who  gather  round  it ; 
and  it  will  fall  at  last,  if  fall  it  must,  amidst  the 
proudest  monuments  of  its  own  glory  and  on  the 
very  spot  of  its  origin." 

And  what  American,  whatever  his  State,  what- 
ever his  party,  wherever  his  home,  and  however 
great  his  burden  or  unpleasant  his  lines,  has  not 
been  lifted  to  the  highest  plane  of  enthusiasm  and 
fired  with  the  noblest  love  of  country  by  that  match- 
less peroration  which  so  sunk  into  the  hearts  of  men 
that  it  did  more  to  save  the  Union  than  any  Amer- 
ican has  yet  fully  admitted  ?  — 

"  Mr.  President,  I  have  thus  stated  the  reasons 
of  my  dissent  to  the  doctrines  which  have  been  ad- 
vanced and  maintained.  I  am  conscious  of  having 
detained  you  and  the  Senate  much  too  long.  I  was 
drawn  into  the  debate  with  no  previous  delibera- 
tion, such  as  is  suited  to  the  discussion  of  so  grave 
and  important  a  subject.  But  it  is  a  subject  of 
which  my  heart  is  full,  and  I  have  not  been  willing 
to  suppress  the  utterance  of  its  spontaneous  senti- 
ments. I  cannot,  even  now,  persuade  myself  to  re- 
linquish it,  without  expressing  once  more  my  deep 
conviction,  that  since  it  respects  nothing  less  than 


258  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

the  union  of  the  States  it  is  of  most  vital  and  essen- 
tial importance  to  the  public  happiness.  I  profess, 
sir,  in  my  career  hitherto,  to  have  kept  steadily  in 
view  the  prosperity  and  honor  of  the  whole  country, 
and  the  preservation  of  our  federal  Union.  It  is 
to  that  Union  we  owe  our  safety  at  home,  and  our 
consideration  and  dignity  abroad.  It  is  to  that 
Union  that  we  are  chiefly  indebted  for  whatever 
makes  us  most  proud  of  our  country.  That 
Union  we  reached  only  by  the  discipline  of  our 
virtues  in  the  severe  school  of  adversity.  It  had 
its  origin  in  the  necessities  of  disordered  finance, 
prostrate  commerce,  and  ruine  dcredit.  Under  its 
benign  influences,  these  great  interests  immediately 
awoke  as  from  the  dead  and  sprang  forth  with  new- 
ness of  life.  Every  year  of  its  duration  has  teemed 
with  fresh  proofs  of  its  utility  and  its  blessings ; 
and  although  our  territory  has  stretched  out  wider 
and  wider,  and  our  population  spread  farther  and 
farther,  they  have  not  outrun  its  protection  or  its 
benefits.  It  has  been  to  us  all  a  copious  fountain 
of  national,  social,  and  personal  happiness. 

"  I  have  not  allowed  myself,  sir,  to  look  beyond 
the  Union,  to  see  what  might  lie  hidden  in  the 
dark  recess  behind.  I  have  not  coolly  weighed  the 
chances  of  preserving  liberty  when  the  bonds  that 
unite  us  together  shall  be  broken  asunder.  I  have 
not  accustomed  myself  to  hang  over  the  precipice 
of  disunion,  to  see  whether,  with  my  short  sight,  I 
can  fathom  the  depth  of  the  abyss  below ;  nor 


DANIEL    WEBSTER.  259 

could  I  regard  him  as  a  safe  counsellor  in  the 
affairs  of  this  government  whose  thoughts  should 
be  mainly  bent  on  considering,  not  how  the  Union 
should  be  best  preserved,  but  how  tolerable  might 
be  the  condition  of  the  people  when  it  shall  be 
broken  up  and  destroyed.  While  the  Union  lasts 
we  have  high,  exciting,  gratifying  prospects  spread 
out  before  us  —  for  us  and  our  children.  Beyond 
that  I  seek  not  to  penetrate  the  veil.  God  grant 
that  in  my  day,  at  least,  that  curtain  may  not  rise  ! 
God  grant  that  on  my  vision  never  may  be  opened 
what  lies  behind  !  When  my  eyes  shall  be  turned 
to  behold  for  the  last  time  the  sun  in  heaven,  may 
I  not  see  him  shining  on  the  broken  and  dishonored 
fragments  of  a  once  glorious  Union ;  on  States  dis- 
severed, discordant,  belligerent ;  on  a  land  rent  with 
civil  feuds,  or  drenched,  it  may  be,  in  fraternal 
blood !  Let  their  last  feeble  and  lingering  glance 
rather  behold  the  gorgeous  ensign  of  the  Republic, 
now  known  and  honored  throughout  the  earth,  still 
full  high  advanced,  its  arms  and  trophies  streaming 
in  their  original  lustre,  not  a  stripe  erased  or  pol- 
luted nor  a  single  star  obscured,  bearing  for  its 
motto  no  such  miserable  interrogatory  as  '  What  is 
all  this  worth  ? '  nor  those  other  words  of  delusion 
and  folly,  '  Liberty  first  and  Union  afterwards  ; '  but 
everywhere,  spread  over  all  in  characters  of  living 
light,  blazing  on  all  its  ample  folds,  as  they  float  over 
the  sea  and  over  the  land,  and  in  every  wind  under 
the  whole  heavens,  that  other  sentiment,  dear  to 


260  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

every  true  American  heart,  —  Liberty  and  Union, 
now  and  forever,  one  and  inseparable." 

I  have  often  wondered  how  Mr.  Webster  felt 
when  he  sat  down  after  that  marvellous  speech  was 
concluded.  Think  what  it  must  be  to  a  man  to 
have  that  power  of  swaying  a  multitude  by  his 
words  and  regenerating  a  people  by  his  power ! 

That  Daniel  Webster  had  that  power  the  history 
of  that  great  speech  proves.  It  is  a  fact  that  Web- 
ster's "  Liberty  and  Union  "  oration  was  the  favor- 
ite declamation  of  American  school  boys  for  five 
and  twenty  years ;  that  its  words  and  precepts 
went  deeper  into  their  hearts  than  they  themselves 
imagined ;  that  it  inspired  a  passionate  and  devoted 
love  for  the  Union  throughout  the  North  which, 
when  the  hour  of  danger  came  to  the  Republic,  em- 
phasized the  sentiment  of  nationality,  and  nerved 
the  arm  as  it  sustained  the  courage  of  the  united 
North.  Therein,  as  Mr.  Lodge  says,  "  lies  the  debt 
which  the  American  people  owe  to  Webster,  and  in 
that  is  his  meaning  and  importance  in  his  own  time 
and  to  us.  to-day." 

Daniel  Webster  was  not  alone  an  orator.  He 
was  a  great  lawyer  and  a  great  statesman.  But  to 
us,  to-day,  his* name  suggests  always  "liberty  and 
union."  It  is  on  that  speech  that  his  fame  was 
built,  and  for  that  speech  that  he  will  be  forever 
remembered. 

No  statesman  in  all  America  had  a  more  unfal- 
tering love  of  country,  none  had  a  more  absorbing 


DANIEL    WEBSTER.  261 

belief  in  the  greatness  of  the  Republic  and  its  mag- 
nificent possibilities.  In  speech  as  senator,  in  State 
papers  as  secretary,  he  fought  ever  for  one  thing  — 
the  integrity  of  the  Republic  and  the  permanence  of 
American  nationality.  Even  his  fatal  "  seventh  of 
March  "  speech,  as  it  is  always  called,  —  that  speech 
in  1850  in  which  he  supported  the  odious  Fugitive 
Slave  Law,  and  disappointed  his  steadfast  support- 
ers, —  even  that  was  because  of  his  love  for  the 
Union,  and  his  desire  to  preserve  it  unbroken, 
though,  to  do  so,  he  must  sacrifice  his  inherited  be- 
liefs and  principles. 

Daniel  Webster  was  a  big  man  and  loved  big 
things  —  big  farms  and  trees  and  cattle  and  moun- 
tains, Niagara,  the  ocean  —  bigness  in  everything, 
and  for  that  reason  he  could  stand  nothing  small 
or  sectional  in  American  life.  He  loved  the  Union 
as  a  great  and  undivided  whole,  and  in  the  very 
speech  that  worked  his  ruin  he  made  the  patriotic 
and  national  declaration  that  should  have  gone  far 
to  excuse  his  action :  "  I  was  born  an  American ;  I 
live  an  American ;  I  shall  die  an  American." 

He  did  so  die.  True  to  the  expressed  hope  in 
his  ever-famous  speech,  his  eyes,  when  turned  to 
behold  for  the  last  time  the  sun  in  heaven,  did  in- 
deed see  "  the  gorgeous  ensign  of  the  Republic," 
still  full  high  advanced,  not  a  star  obscured,  not  a 
stripe  erased,  floating  in  the  wind  of  heaven,  with 
liberty  and  union  still  the  sentiment  dear  to  the 
American  heart.  For,  when  the  great  orator  lay 


262  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

dying  in  his  beloved  Marshlield  home,  he  could  see 
from  his  window,  as  he  looked  each  morning  to  be 
sure  that  the  flag  was  still  there,  the  flutter  of  the 
stars  and  stripes  which  he  so  dearly  loved,  and 
which,  according  to  his  orders,  were  kept  floating 
from  the  flagstaff  until  his  last  breath  had  passed. 
A  great  man  was  Daniel  Webster,  of  Massachu- 
setts ;  a  man  of  faults  as  great  and  glaring  as  his 
own  vast  ideas  and  talents,  but  a  man  of  wonderful 
powers  and  mighty  mind,  a  real  son  of  the  Republic, 
an  American  citizen  in  the  best  sense  of  that  noble, 
and  impressive  word.  He  was,  in  truth,  the  "  Ex- 
pounder of  the  Constitution,"  as  none  had  before 
expounded  it ;  he  was  the  defender  and  upholder 
of  the  Union ;  and  to  his  labors  and  his  magnetic 
eloquence  the  boys  and  girls  of  America,  to-day, 
owe,  in  very  large  degree,  their  peace,  their  security, 
their  very  existence. 


XIX. 

THE    STORY   OF    WASHINGTON  IRVING, 
OF   NEW    YORK, 

CALLED    THE    "FOUNDER    OF    AMERICAN 
LITERATURE." 


Born  in  New  York  City,  April  3, 1783. 

Died  at  Tarrytown,  New  York,  November  28,  1859. 


"  Born  while  the  British  troops  were  still  in  possession  of  his 
native  city,  and  overtaken  by  death  a  year  before  Abraham 
Lincoln  was  elected  president,  he  represents  a  span  of  life  from 
Revolutionary  days  to  a  period  well  remembered  by  men  now  of 
middle  age.  .  .  .  He  was  the  first  American  man  of  letters 
whose  writings  contained  the  vital  spark.  .  .  .  His  position 
in  American  literature  is  unique  and  will  always  remain  so."  — 
Edwin  W.  Morse. 

THE  street  echoed  with  the  sound  of  martial 
music  —  the  rattle  of  the  drum,  and  the  shrill 
quaver  of  the  fife  ;  a  flash  of  color  and  a  flutter 
of  flags  filled  the  nearest  street ;  and  the  small  boy 
on  the  doorstep  could  not  resist  the  temptation. 
Darting  from  his  perch  on  the  "stoop"  of  his 
father's  house,  he  whisked  about  the  corner  and  was 
soon  forcing  his  way  into  the  crowd. 

It  was  a  joyous  and  jubilant  crowd  into  which 
263 


264  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

this  runaway  six-year  old  had  thrown  himself. 
It  was  evidently  out  for  a  holiday,  and  yet  it 
seemed  to  be  a  holiday  of  exceptional  significance. 
The  flags  and  the  music,  the  soldiers  and  the  crowd, 
were  but  a  part  of  the  accessories  of  the  pageant, 
while  the  pageant  itself  finally  became,  for  this 
small  spectator,  simply  a  large,  impressive-looking 
man  standing  on  a  balcony,  plainly  dressed  in 
brown  short-clothes,  to  whom  another  man  in  black 
robes  handed  an  open  book  which  the  big  man  in 
brown  fervently  kissed. 

Then  the  small  boy  in  the  crowd  heard  the  man 
in  black  robes  call  out  in  loud,  triumphant  tones, 
"  Long  live  George  Washington,  president  of  the 
United  States  !  "  Whereupon  the  people,  packed 
in  the  street  below,  cheered  themselves  hoarse,  the 
drums  and  fifes  played  up  their  loudest,  all  the 
bells  in  all  the  steeples  rang  a  merry  peal,  the  guns 
boomed  out  a  salute,  and  young  Washington  Irving, 
aged  six,  had  witnessed  the  inauguration  of  George 
Washington  as  the  first  president  of  the  United 
States  of  America. 

Seventy  years  after,  in  a  beautiful  vine-embow- 
ered home  on  the  banks  of  the  noble  Hudson,  an 
old  man  wrote  "  The  End  "  to  a  long  and  exhaustive 
work  upon  which  he  had  expended  a  vast  amount 
of  research,  time,  and  labor.  Sick  almost  unto 
death,  he  still  gave  to  the  work  a  devoted  and  un- 
remitting attention,  and  when  at  last  it  was  finished, 
the  last  "  copy  "  turned  in  to  the  printer,  the  pen 


WASHINGTON    IRVING.  265 

with  which  it  was  written  given  to  an  admiring 
friend,  the  last  task  of  a  long  and  busy  life  was 
concluded,  and  the  famous  author  gave  to  the  world 
the  life-story  of  the  man  for  whom  he  was  named, 
the  patriot  for  whom  he  had  an  enthusiastic  rever- 
ence, the  big  man  in  brown  whom,  as  a  small  boy, 
he  had  seen  made  president  of  the  United  States, 
and  whose  story  as  told  by  him  has  become  world- 
renowned  as  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington." 

There  is  a  story  told  to  the  effect  that,  when  this 
small  boy  was  first  "put  into  trousers  "  the  Irving 
maid-servant  who  was  charged  with  his  care  fol- 
lowed the  dignified  and  awe-inspiring  first  president 
of  the  United  States  into  a  shop,  dragging  the  boy 
with  her. 

"  Please,  your  Honor,"  said  this  Scotch  Lizzie, 
with  the  inevitable  courtesy  of  those  days  as  her 
"  manners,"  but  with  an  evidently  exalted  opinion 
of  the  Irving  family  as  well,  —  "  please,  your  Honor, 
here 's  a  bairn  as  was  named  after  you." 

And  the  great  Washington,  punctilious  in  small 
matters  as  he  was  in  great  affairs,  stooped  down 
and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  head  of  the  small 
Washington. 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  you,  my  little  man,"  he  said; 
"  grow  up  to  be  a  good  one." 

He  grew  to  be  both  good  and  great  —  good  in 
his  character,  great  in  the  service  he  did  to  Amer- 
ican letters.  For  as  surely  as  George  Washington 
was  the  Father  of  his  Country  so  surely  was 


266  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

Washington  Irving   the    Father  of   his   Country's 
Literature. 

He  was  a  boy  of  old  New  York  —  that  quaint, 
picturesque,  yet  cosmopolitan,  city  of  the  close  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  when  Fulton  street  was  up- 
town, Canal  street  far  in  the  country,  and  Central 
park  an  unclaimed  wilderness ;  when  Dutch  ways 
and  Dutch  manners  still  controlled  the  city's 
domestic  life,  and  the  growth  and  bustle  of  the 
mighty  nineteenth  century  had  not  commenced  - 
even  in  prophecy.  Washington  Irving's  father 
was  a  prosperous  merchant  of  the  town,  and  the 
boy,  being  of  a  delicate  constitution,  was  not  held 
to  strict  accountability  either  in  school,  pursuits,  or 
recreations  —  though  he  has  put  on  record  a  glimpse 
of  the  over-strict  discipline  of  those  days,  when  he 
remarked,  "  When  I  was  young  I  was  led  to  think 
that,  somehow  or  other,  everything  that  was  pleas- 
ant was  wicked." 

One  thing,  certainly,  he  did  not  find  to  be  pleasant 
—  books  and  study.  Learning  came  hard  to  him  ; 
he  had  not  sufficient  application  to  do  well  with  the 
dull  routine  studies  of  those  days  of  stupid  text- 
books and  stupider  methods  of  teaching,  and  so, 
gradually,  he  became,  as  he  confesses,  a  "  saunterer 
and  a  dreamer,"  with  just  two  fixed  desires,  —  to 
keep  out  of  college  and  to  go  to  sea.  It  is  well, 
however,  to  add  here  that  he  awoke  later  to  see 
and  acknowledge  his  error ;  for  he  always  regretted 
that  he  had  not  "  gone  through  "  college. 


WASHINGTON   IRVING.  267 

So,  at  sixteen  his  father  decided,  much  against 
his  own  will,  to  make  a  lawyer  of  young  Washing- 
ton ;  for  he  had  wished  the  boy  to  be  almost  any- 
thing else.  But  law-books  were,  if  anything,  dryer 
than  school-books,  and  young  Irving  lost  no  oppor- 
tunity to  turn  from  reading  law  to  essays,  novels, 
and  poems.  He  loved,  too,  the  life  in  the  open  air, 
and  he  tramped  and  hunted  all  the  section  along 
the  Hudson  above  New  York,  until  the  region  be- 
came dear  to  him  with  a  charm  that  never  forsook 
him.  He  loved  to  hear  the  stories  that  haunted 
that  romantic  country  that  had  been  the  bloody 
borderland  of  the  Revolution  and  which  teemed 
with  the  legends  and  traditions  that  this  careless, 
dreamy  boy  was  later  to  give  to  literature  and 
fame. 

Opportunity,  at  last,  came  to  him  to  go  abroad. 
This  was  due  to  the  affection  and  forethought  of  his 
eldest  brother,  —  "  the  man  I  loved  most  on  earth," 
Washington  Irving  said  of  him, — who  feared  for 
his  brother's  delicate  health  and  appreciated  the 
benefit  that  would  come  to  one  of  his  disposition  if 
he  were  able  to  see  the  great  world  beyond  the  sea. 

The  voyage  and  the  travel  had  precisely  the 
effect  this  wise  elder  brother  desired :  they  braced 
the  young  fellow  up  mentally  and  physically,  and 
after  two  years  abroad  he  returned  filled  with  the 
new  thoughts  and  new  desires  that  opportunity  and 
a  broader  culture  created  in  him,  laying  thus  the 
foundations  from  which  sprang  his  literary  career. 


268  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

This  career  commenced  soon  after  his  return  to 
New  York.  He  began  with  sketches  arid  personal- 
ities, —  a  sort  of  magazine- work,  —  and  then,  sud- 
denly, blossomed  into  real  achievement  with  his 
familiar  and  ever  famous  anonymous  travesty, 
"  Knickerbocker's  History  of  New  York."  It  was 
the  forerunner  of  the  American  humor  which  in  the 
next  century  was  to  become  so  original  and  marked 
a  feature  of  American  literature,  and  although  it 
has  been  so  mistakenly  accepted  as  fact  as  to  work  a 
serious  and  harmful  influence  on  the  real  and  valu- 
able story  of  the  beginnings  of  New  York  history, 
it  still  has  become  an  American  classic  —  a  humor- 
ous masterpiece,  with  no  appreciable  rival  until  the 
appearance,  almost  sixty  years  after,  of  Mark 
Twain's  "  Innocents  Abroad." 

The  leaderless  war  of  1812  found  Washington 
Irving  (even  as  the  war  of  1898  found  so  many 
good  Americans)  regretting  its  necessity,  but  an 
ardent  patriot. 

One  night  as  the  regular  steamboat  was  puffing 
down  the  river,  and  the  cabin  was  filled  with  sleepy, 
reclining  passengers,  a  man  came  on  board  at 
Poughkeepsie  and  electrified  the  company  with  the 
dreadful  news  of  the  British  capture  of  Washing- 
ton and  the  destruction  of  the  public  buildings. 

"  Well,"  said  a  voice  in  sneering  comment  from 
one  of  the  dimly  seen  benches,  "what  else  could 
you  expect  ?  I  wonder  what  Jimmy  Madison  will 
say  now  ?  " 


WASHINGTON   IRVING.  269 

The  patriotic  but  not  over-strong  Irving  fairly 
sprang  at  the  partisan  and  critic. 

"  Sir !  "  he  cried  indignantly,  "  do  you  seize  on 
such  a  disaster  only  for  a  sneer  ?  Let  me  tell  you, 
sir,  it  is  not  a  question  now  about  '  Jimmy '  Madi- 
son or  '  Jimmy '  Armstrong  or  any  other  '  Jimmy.' 
The  pride  and  honor  of  the  nation  are  wounded, 
the  country  is  insulted  and  disgraced  by  this  bar- 
barous success,  and  every  loyal  citizen  should  feel 
the  ignominy  and  be  earnest  to  avenge  it." 

The  whole  cabin  broke  into  applause  at  this 
patriotic  outburst,  and  the  selfish  partisan  had  not 
a  word  to  say. 

"  I  could  not  see  the  fellow,"  Irving  explained, 
"  but  I  would  n't  stand  what  he  said,  and  I  just  let 
fly  at  him  in  the  dark." 

Then  he  went  at  once  to  the  governor  and  offered 
his  services.  They  were  readily  accepted,  and 
Irving,  being  made  the  governor's  aide  and  military 
secretary,  became  at  once  Colonel  Washington 
Irving. 

He  served  as  aide  and  secretary  until  the  close  of 
the  war,  and  his  duties  were  neither  as  light  nor  as 
decorative  as  one  is  apt  to  regard  those  of  these 
staff  warriors.  He  really  was  a  worker  and  a  vig- 
orous one,  but  he  hailed  with  joy  the  completion 
of  the  war,  and  also  the  opportunity  for  another 
trip  abroad. 

This  second  visit  to  Europe  gave  him  fresh  stores 
of  experience  and  material,  but  he  was  scarcely  yet 


270  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

ready  to  take  up  literature  as  a  profession.  Life 
was  too  easy  and  too  enjoyable. 

Suddenly,  however,  he  was  brought  face  to  face 
with  duty.  Misfortune  fell  upon  the  Irving  family : 
his  brothers  failed  in  business  and  he  was  compelled 
to  look  out  for  himself.  But  what  then  appeared  a 
great  disaster  actually  proved,  as  have  so  many 
other  disasters  to  men,  a  real  incentive,  "  a  for- 
tunate failure  ;  "  for  it  made  Washington  Irving  a 
purpose-filled  worker,  and  gave  him  to  American 
literature. 

His  "  History  of  New  York,"  and  his  scattered 
sketches,  had  made  him  known  in  England  as  one 
of  those  apparent  impossibilities  —  an  American 
author.  So,  when  he  was  forced  to  take  up  his  pen 
as  a  bread-winner  he  determined  to  carry  on  his  work 
in  London  and  at  once  began  writing  those  delight- 
ful papers  which  make  up  the  "  Sketch  Book  "  and 
which  were  published  serially  both  in  England  and 
America. 

Success  did  not  come  without  a  few  first "  hitches," 
but,  once  started,  it  came  uninterruptedly,  and 
Irving  found  a  market  for  all  that  he  could  write.  In 
1820  appeared  the  "  Sketch  Book,"  in  1822,  "  Brace- 
bridge  Hall,"  in  1824,  "  Tales  of  a  Traveller,"  and 
then  Irving  was  able  to  change  his  atmosphere  and  go 
to  Spain,  where  he  wrote  the  "  Life  of  Columbus," 
published  in  1828  ;  the  "  Conquest  of  Granada,"  in 
1829 ;  and  the  sketches  known  as  "  Tales  of  the 
Alhambra." 


WASHINGTON    IRVING.  271 

Then,  having  gained  both  fame  and  fortune  by 
his  pen,  he  determined  to  return,  and  in  1832  he 
arrived  in  New  York,  after  an  absence  of  seven- 
teen years.  He  was  famous,  popular,  and  honored. 
America  hailed  him  as  her  first  man  of  letters  — the 
American  who  had  fairly  won  English  recognition 
and  respect.  Indeed,  the  rush  of  hospitalities  upon 
him  was  so  great  that,  finally,  he  was  obliged  to 
turn  his  back  upon  his  social  successes  and  "  take 
to  the  woods." 

He  did  this  literally ;  for  in  the  fall  of  1832  he 
made  a  journey  into  the  prairie  land  of  the  West 
and  Southwest,  gaining  material  and  "  local  color  " 
for  his  books  of  American  travel  and  adventure 
which  appeared  soon  after,  —  "A  Tour  on  the 
Prairies,"  in  1835;  "Astoria,"  in  1836;  and  the 
"  Adventures  of  Captain  Bonneville,"  in  1837. 

While  at  work  on  these  books  he  had  been  able 
to  purchase  a  "  little  Dutch  cottage  "  and  ten  acres 
of  land  on  the  river-bank  just  below  Tarrytown  on 
the  Hudson.  That  little  stone  Dutch  cottage,  in 
which  once  had  lived  the  Van  Tassells,  of  Sleepy 
Hollow  fame,  grew,  with  some  modest  additions, 
into  Sunnyside,  the  best-known  literary  residence  in 
America  next  to  Longfellow's  house  at  Cambridge. 

In  1842  Washington  Irving  was  made  United 
States  minister  to  Spain.  The  appointment  re- 
flected great  credit  upon  President  Tyler,  but  still 
more  upon  Daniel  Webster,  who  advocated  and  se- 
cured the  appointment,  and  who  looked  upon  it  as 


272  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

a  distinct  and  merited  recognition  of  the  work  of 
Irving  in  the  cause  of  American  literature. 

The  appointment  was  most  unexpected  to  Irving. 
He  scarcely  knew  what  to  say  or  do. 

"  Washington  Irving,"  said  Daniel  Webster,  "  is 
now  the  most  astonished  man  in  the  city  of  New 
York." 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  he  said  to  his  nephew  and 
later  biographer.  "  I  don't  want  to  go  and  yet  I  do. 
I  don't  want  to  leave  Sunnyside,  and  yet  a  resi- 
dence at  Madrid  would  let  me  do  some  work  I 
must  undertake.  I  appreciate  the  honor  and  dis- 
tinction, but  —  good  heavens  !  it 's  exile  —  it 's 
exile  !  It  is  hard,  very  hard,"  he  added,  smiling 
upon  his  nephew,  "  and  yet  I  suppose  I  must  try 
to  bear  it.  '  God  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn 
lamb,'  you  know,"  and'thus,  making  merry  even  in 
his  struggle  over  a  divided  duty,  he  accepted  the 
unsolicited  appointment  and  made  ready  to  go  to 
Spain. 

He  remained  in  Madrid  as  minister  to  Spain  four 
years,  from  1842  to  1846,  but  he  did  not  do  the 
literary  labor  he  expected  to  perform  there.  He 
had  it  on  his  mind,  however,  and  the  "  work " 
he  referred  to,  while  considering  his  appointment, 
he  really  planned  and  arranged  there.  This  was  to 
be  his  greatest  work  —  the  "  Life  of  Washington." 
His  attention  to  the  affairs  of  his  post,  however, 
occupied  much  of  his  time,  and  Daniel  Webster, 
who  was  then  secretary  of  state,  used  to  say  that 


WASHINGTON    IRVING.  273 

he  always  laid  aside  every  other  correspondence  to 
read  a  diplomatic  despatch  from  the  United  States 
minister  to  Spain. 

It  was  the  nineteenth  of  September,  1846,  when 
Irving  found  himself  "  home  again  "  at  Sunnyside. 
He  was  overjoyed  to  be  once  more  in  what  he  called 
his  "  darling  little  Sunnyside,"  and  he  intended  to 
get  to  work  on  his  proposed  books  at  once.  But  he 
did  not.  Leisure  was  too  pleasant,  and  was  one  of 
the  things  he  could  now  afford;  but  he  wrote  at 
last  to  his  nephew,  begging  him  to  come  and  spur 
him  on,  for,  said  he,  "  I  am  growing  a  sad  laggard 
in  literature,  and  need  some  one  to  bolster  me  up 
occasionally.  I  am  ready  to  do  anything  else  rather 
than  write."  But  after  a  while  he  got  to  work 
again,  and  published  in  1849  his  "  Life  of  Gold- 
smith "  —his  favorite  author;  in  1850  he  issued 
"  Mahomet  and  his  Successors,"  and  in  1854  "  Wol- 
fert's  Roost."  He  had  also  through  these  years 
been  at  work  oh  his  "  Life  of  Washington,"  the 
first  volume  of  which  appeared  in  1855,  and  the 
fifth  and  concluding  volume  in  1859. 

So,  for  just  fifty  years,  from  1809  to  1859,  had 
Washington  Irving  been  making  a  name  for  him- 
self, and  a  place  for  American  literature.  Before 
his  day  little  that  could  be  called  literature  had  ap- 
peared from  American  writers.  Theology  or  pol- 
itics were  the  only  themes  that  could  inspire  the 
American  pen,  and,  at  the  best,  the  result  of  this 
inspiration  was  dry  and  dull  enough.  Washington 


274  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

Irving  put  life  and  strength,  sentiment  and  sinew 
into  the  dry  bones  of  American  letters,  and  created 
a  school  of  writing  in  which,  however,  few  scholars 
could  equal  the  master,  whose  work  stands  at  this 
day  strong  in  its  influence,  captivating  in  its  style, 
enchanting  in  its  humor,  and  simple  in  its  pathos. 

Irving  was  a  most  companionable  man,  fond  of 
society  and  of  his  friends,  enjoying  a  good  time, 
but  always  curious  to  hear  and  see  what  was 
going  on  in  the  world. 

"  I  never  could  keep  at  home,"  he  declared, 
"  when  Madrid  was  in  a  state  of  siege  and  under 
arms,  and  the  troops  bivouacking  in  every  street 
and  square ;  and  I  always  had  a  strong  hankering 
to  get  near  the  gates  when  the  fighting  was  going 
on." 

This  quality  was  almost  that  of  the  newspaper 
man  and  special  correspondent ;  it  was  this  that 
made  him  see  things  wherever  he  was  —  in  mid- 
ocean,  in  European  capitals,  in  the  heart  of  the 
Catskills,  amid  the  silent  ruins  of  the  Alhambra,  or 
in  the  mighty  lonesomeness  of  the  Western  plains. 

But,  with  all  his  love  of  society,  his  friendly  ways, 
and  his  personal  popularity,  Irving  was  one  of  the 
most  modest  and  retiring  of  men  —  fearing  nothing 
so  much  as  an  after-dinner  speech,  as  witness  his 
comical  experience  when  called  upon  to  speak  at 
the  famous  Dickens  dinner  in  1842. 

"  I  shall  certainly  break  down  —  I  shall  certainly 
break  down,"  he  kept  saying  before  he  was  called 


WASHINGTON    IRVING.  275 

upon  to  speak,  even  though  his  speech  was  all  writ- 
ten out  and  lay  beside  his  plate. 

"  There  !  I  told  you  I  should  break  down,  and 
I  've  done  it !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  resumed  his  seat 
with  his  speech  only  half  delivered,  but  with  all 
the  table  loud  in  its  applause  of  the  neat  way  in 
which  he  got  out  of  the  scrape. 

Dickens  loved  him,  Scott  loved  him,  Moore 
loved  him,  Motley  and  Bancroft  loved  him.  In 
fact,  every  one  who  knew  intimately  this  gracious, 
kindly,  lovable,  and  friendly  man  loved  him,  from 
kings  to  children,  and  from  great  men  to  gardeners. 

He  never  married.  The  woman  whom  he  hoped 
to  make  his  wife  died  early  in  his  life  and  he  re- 
mained a  bachelor  until  his  death.  But  his  home 
was  the  Mecca  of  all  the  children  of  his  kindred 
families,  and  he  had  always  a  kindly  greeting  and  a 
cheery  word  for  every  niece  and  nephew  who  came 
to  see  him ;  a  letter  written  to  his  nephew,  Irving 
Grinnell,  is  one  of  the  things  that  every  boy  — 
especially  every  young  American  —  should  read. 

It  is  claimed  by  some  critics  that  though  Wash- 
ington Irving  was  one  of  the  chief  ornaments  of 
American  literature  he  was  not  really  an  American 
author ;  that  he  conformed  too  closely  to  English 
standards  and  was  an  English  rather  than  an  Ameri- 
can writer.  And  yet  nothing  was  more  distinc- 
tively American,  in  humor  and  conception,  than  his 
"•  Knickerbocker's  New  York ; "  while  such  stories  of 
his  as  "  Rip  Van  Winkle  "  and  the  "  Legend  of 


276  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

Sleepy  Hollow  "  —  American  both,  in  subject  and 
manner  as  well  —  hold  their  place  among  the 
famous  specimens  of  American  literature. 

Whatever  he  may  have  been  in  style  and  method 
he  certainly  showed  his  countrymen  what  Amer- 
ican writers  could  do.  He  lifted  American  litera- 
ture out  of  the  deadly  ruts  into  which  what  there 
was  of  it  persistently  stuck,  and  he  inspired  younger 
men  to  follow  his  example  and  be  natural,  creative, 
and  original. 

Unaffected,  loyal,  courteous,  kind-hearted,  refined, 
and  unconscious,  he  put  the  stamp  of  sincerity, 
artistic  finish,  clear  and  easy  narrative  upon  what- 
ever he  wrote.  His  history,  instead  of  being  dry 
and  stilted,  is  picturesque  and  attractive ;  his  biog- 
raphy is  at  once  direct,  poetical,  and  intellectual; 
while  the  pathos,  the  humor,  the  vividness,  and  the 
beauty  of  his  shorter  sketches  have  made  them  out- 
live a  host  of  pretentious  and  overstrained  attempts 
at  story-telling ;  so  that  Washington  Irving,  to-day, 
is  read  by  thousands  with  the  same  delight,  though 
with  a  clearer  sense  of  his  excellences  as  well  as 
his  imperfections,  as  when,  years  ago,  he  came,  a 
new  star  in  the  intellectual  firmament,  leading  and 
lighting  the  way  to  endeavor,  success,  progress,  and 
development  in  the  field  which  he  had  discovered 
as  the  founder  and  father  of  a  real  American  litera- 
ture. 


XX. 

THE  STORY  OF  HENRY  CLAY,  OF 
ASHLAND, 

CALLED   "THE   GREAT   PACIFICATOR." 


Born  near  Richmond,  Virginia,  April  12,  1777. 
Died  at  Washington,  July  29,  1852. 


u  I  have  admired  and  trusted  many  statesmen.  I  profoundly 
loved  Henry  Clay.  ...  I  loved  him  for  his  generous 
nature,  his  gallant  bearing,  his  thrilling  eloquence,  and  his  life- 
long devotion  to  what  I  deemed  our  country's  unity,  prosperity  j 
and  just  renown.  .  .  .  The  careless  reader  of  our  history  in 
future  centuries  will  scarcely  realize  the  force  of  his  personal 
magnetism,  nor  conceive  how  millions  of  hearts  glowed  with 
sanguine  hopes  of  his  election  to  the  presidency,  and  lamented 
his  and  their  discomfiture."  —  Horace  Greeley. 

IT  was  a  day  of  jubilee  in  Washington.  From 
end  to  end  that  straggling  little  city  of  great  possi- 
bilities and  unfulfilled  intentions,  of  public  edifices 
still  unfinished  and  broad  avenues  little  better  than 
muddy  or  dusty  highways,  was  in  a  state  of  excite- 
ment ;  flags  fluttered  everywhere,  peopled  thronged 
the  approaches  to  the  Capitol,  and  amid  shouts  and 
cheers  a  little  old  Frenchman  rode  up  to  the  big, 
uncompleted  white  palace  on  the  hill  as  the  guest 
of  the  Republic  —  an  honored  and  beloved  guest, 
277 


278  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

whose  name  has  ever  been  held  in  grateful  re- 
membrance —  Lafayette. 

The  year  was  1824.  The  month  was  September. 
He  had  been  greeted  by  the  president ;  he  was  pre- 
sented to  the  Senate  ;  and  now  he  entered  the  cir- 
cular chamber  of  the  old  House  of  Representatives 
-  the  room  which,  to-day,  is  devoted  to  the  per- 
petuation of  historic  Americans  under  the  name  of 
Statuary  hall ;  there  he  was  welcomed  by  the 
assembled  congressmen,  who  sprang  to  their  feet  to 
greet  the  nation's  guest  and  cheered  the  old  hero  to 
the  echo  as  he  proceeded  to  the  place  of  honor  be- 
side the  Speaker  of  the  House. 

Then  uprose  the  tall  Speaker  of  the  House,  tow- 
ering above  the  small,  slight  French  nobleman. 
Spare  in  person  and  plain  of  face,  yet  with  a  man- 
ner that  was  the  height  of  courtesy  and  a  personal- 
ity that  was  fascinating  beyond  expression,  Henry 
Clay,  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  in 
the  name  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States  wel- 
comed the  nation's  guest  to  the  legislative  hall  of 
the  people's  representatives. 

Not  one,  supporter  or  opponent,  but  was  proud 
of  his  Speaker  as  the  words  of  welcome  came  from 
those  eloquent  lips ;  not  one  but  joined,  for  once, 
at  least,  in  the  sentiments  of  love  and  friendship 
that  he  uttered,  expressing  the  warm  heart  of  the 
nation  which  went  out  in  friendship  and  honor  to 
this  famous  old  man  of  sixty-seven,  the  friend  and 
companion  of  Washington,  the  generous  and  valiant 


HENRY    CLAY.  279 

upholder  and  hero  of  the  Revolution  alike  through 
its  days  of  stress  and  in  its  hour  of  triumph. 

Dignified,  appropriate,  and  eloquent,  with  no 
show  of  oratory  or  any  striving  for  effect,  were  the 
words  of  the  Speaker ;  and  thus  he  concluded : 

"  The  vain  wish  has  been  sometimes  indulged, 
that  Providence  would  allow  the  patriot,  after 
death,  to  return  to  his  country  and  to  contemplate 
the  immediate  changes  which  had  taken  place :  to 
view  the  forests  felled,  the  cities  built,  the  moun- 
tains levelled,  the  canals  cut,  the  highways  con- 
structed, the  progress  of  the  arts,  the  advancement 
of  learning,  and  the  increase  of  population.  Gen- 
eral, your  present  visit  to  the  United  States  is  a 
realization  of  the  consoling  object  of  that  wish. 
You  are  in  the  midst  of  posterity.  Everywhere 
you  must  have  been  struck  with  the  great  changes, 
physical  and  moral,  which  have  occurred  since  you 
left  us.  Even  this  very  city,  bearing  a  venerated 
name,  alike  endeared  to  you  and  to  us,  has  since 
emerged  from  the  forest  which  then  covered  its 
site.  In  one  respect  you  behold  us  unaltered,  and 
this  is  in  the  sentiment  of  continued  devotion  to 
liberty,  and  of  ardent  affection  and  profound  grati- 
tude to  your  departed  friend,  the  Father  of  his 
Country,  and  to  you,  and  to  your  illustrious  asso- 
ciates in  the  field  and  in  the  Cabinet,  for  the  multi- 
plied blessings  which  surround  us,  and  for  the  very 
privilege  of  addressing  you  which  I  now  exercise. 
This  sentiment,  now  fondly  cherished  by  more  than 


280  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

ten  millions  of  people,  will  be  transmitted  with  un- 
abated vigor  down  the  tide  of  time,  through  the 
countless  millions  who  are  destined  to  inhabit  this 
continent  to  the  latest  posterity." 

We  are  told  that  the  sensitive  and  gallant  French- 
man, whose  whole  life  had  been  a  story  of  romance, 
adventure,  eminence,  privation,  and  success,  was 
moved  to  tears  by  Claj'-'s  appreciative  and  sympa- 
thetic speech  of  welcome,  while  even  the  most  un- 
compromising opponent  of  the  Speaker  in  that 
crowded  hall  yielded  to  the  influence  of  his  greeting 
and  responded  with  appreciation  and  applause  to 
the  words  of  Henry  Clay  —  "  genial,  cordial,  cour- 
teous, gracious,  magnetic,  winning  Harry  Clay." 

That  was  what  one  admirer  called  him,  exhaust- 
ing all  available  adjectives  of  manly  affection ;  and 
a  recent  historian,  carefully  surveying  the  field  of 
America's  mid-century  politics,  records  as  his  ver- 
dict that  "  no  man  has  been  loved  as  the  people  of 
the  United  States  loved  Henry  Clay." 

His  story  is  but  that  of  another  great  man  sprung 
from  small  beginnings.  He  was  the  son  of  a  strug- 
gling Baptist  minister,  settled  over  a  little  parish 
near  Richmond  in  Virginia.  The  little  settlement 
was  known  as  the  Slashes  of  Hanover,  and  as  the 
minister's  son  was  fifth  in  a  family  of  seven  he  had 
many  "  chores  "  to  do.  One  of  these  was  to  ride 
the  old  horse  to  and  from  the  mill,  and  from  this 
duty  came  the  nickname  by  which  Henry  Clay  won 
popularity,  "  The  mill  boy  of  the  Slashes." 


HENRY    CLAY.  281 

He  was  a  bright,  wide-awake,  active  little  fellow, 
but  the  opportunities  for  education  were  very  slight 
in  his  country  home,  and  when,  after  his  father  died, 
his  mother  married  again,  young  Harry,  just  in  his 
'teens,  was  sent  to  Richmond  to  strike  out  for  him- 
self. He  began  as  a  copying  clerk  in  a  Richmond 
court;  he  made  friends,  as  he  always  did,  and, 
helped  by  them,  was  able  to  set  up  as  a  lawyer,  so 
that  when,  in  1797,  he  removed  to  Lexington,  Ky., 
he  could  "  hang  out  his  shingle  "  in  that  pleasant 
town  in  the  beautiful  "  blue-grass  country,"  which 
remained  his  dearly  loved  home  all  through  his  life. 

He  soon  became  popular  in  Kentucky;  for  his 
frank  and  cordial  manners  quickly  won  him  friends, 
and,  before  long,  he  had  gone  into  politics.  He 
was  sent  to  the  Kentucky  Legislature  in  1804  ;  and 
in  1806,  when  barely  thirty  years  old,  he  was  made 
United  States  senator.  « 

From  that  time  until  his  death  he  held,  by  the 
force  of  his  wonderful  personality,  as  well  as  of  his 
character  and  ability,  the  leadership  of  his  State, 
and  by  his  magnetic  power  and  wise  methods  he 
held  Kentucky  from  joining  the  disaffected  States 
of  the  South  and  kept  her  firm  for  the  Union. 

For  more  than  forty  years  Henry  Clay  was  a 
public  man.  He  was  in  the  Senate,  the  House  of 
Representatives,  and  the  Cabinet.  He  was  six  times 
Speaker  of  the  House,  and  one  who  served  with  him 
there  for  many  years  declared  that  "no  abler  or 
more  commanding  presiding  officer  ever  sat  in  the 


282  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

Speaker's  chair  on  either  side  of  the  Atlantic."  He 
was  secretary  of  state  under  President  John  Quincy 
Adams,  and  that  broad-minded  chief  magistrate 
declared  that  "  for  preeminent  talents,  splendid  ser- 
vices, ardent  patriotism,  all-embracing  public  spirit, 
fervid  eloquence  in  behalf  of  the  rights  and  liber- 
ties of  mankind,  and  long  experience  in  affairs  of 
the  Union,  no  man  in  the  United  States  was  to  be 
preferred  to  Henry  Clay." 

It  was  his  eloquence  and  personality  that  brought 
about  the  war  of  1812;  it  was  his  diplomacy  and 
wisdom  that  closed  the  war  in  the  celebrated  Treaty 
of  Ghent,  in  1814.  In  that  treaty-making  Clay 
showed  himself  a  match  for  the  shrewdest  European 
diplomats,  while  his  absence  from  Congress  was  so 
significant  a  loss  that  Professor  Channing  declares 
that  "  to  the  absence  of  Clay  from  Congress  has 
been  attributed  much  of  the  extraordinary  imbecil- 
ity of  that  body  during  this  period." 

His  leadership  in  Congress  was  indeed  beyond 
dispute.  His  political  opponents  feared  alike  his 
power  and  his  personality. 

"  General,"  said  one  member  of  Congress  to  a 
new  -  arrival,  "  may  I  introduce  you  to  Henry 
Clay?" 

"  No,  sir ;  no,  sir !  "  the  general  answered  decid- 
edly. "  I  am  Henry  Clay's  adversary,  and  I  do  not 
choose  to  submit  myself  to  his  fascination." 

One  student  of  the  proceedings  of  Congress  de- 
clares that  Clay,  as  a  parliamentary  leader,  was  the 


HENRY    CLAY.  283 

greatest  in  the  history  of  America,  while  Mr.  Schurz 
says  of  his  ability  that  his  was  "  the  leadership  of  a 
statesman  zealously  striving  to  promote  great  pub- 
lic interests." 

His  public  spirit  was  notable.  His  first  speech 
in  Congress  was  in  favor  of  encouraging  domestic 
manufactures ;  he  advocated  most  extensive  plans 
of  internal  improvements  —  canals,  water-routes, 
highways — whatever  would  connect  the  East  with 
the  West,  the  North  with  the  South. 

"  We  are  not  legislating  for  this  moment  only," 
he  said,  "  or  for  the  present  generation,  or  for  the 
present  populated  limits  of  the  United  States.  Our 
acts  must  embrace  a  wider  scope  —  reaching  north- 
ward to  the  Pacific  and  southward  to  the  River  Del 
Norte.  Imagine  this  extent  of  territory  with  sixty 
or  seventy  or  a  hundred  millions  of  people.  The 
powers  which  exist  now  will  exist  then;  those 
which  will  exist  then  exist  now." 

As  the  twentieth  century  opens,  the  Republic  has 
passed  beyond  the  seventy  millions'  limit,  and  Clay's 
labors  for  internal  improvement  have  borne  a  last- 
ing fruit. 

He  was  the  ardent  supporter  of  the  South  Ameri- 
can colonies  in  their  revolt  from  Spain.  "  All  Amer- 
ica," said  Bolivar,  the  Spanish-American  patriot? 
"  owes  your  Excellency  our  purest  gratitude  for  the 
incomparable  services  which  you  have  rendered  to 
us,  by  sustaining  our  cause  with  sublime  enthu- 
siasm." The  speeches  of  Clay  in  behalf  of  South 


284  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

American  independence  were  read  by  Bolivar  «,t 
the  head  of  his  troops,  and  Clay  was  an  earnest  ad- 
vocate, in  1825,  for  helping  Cuba  throw  off  "  the 
hated  incubus  of  Spanish  rule."  He  was  the  first 
suggester  of  a  "  Pan-American  Congress,"  and  it  was 
a  favorite  dream  of  his,  says  Mr.  Parton,  "  to  see 
the  western  continent  occupied  by  flourishing  re- 
publics, independent  but  closely  allied." 

The  chief  effort,  however,  of  Henry  Clay's  pub- 
lic life  was  to  prevent  a  disruption  of  the  Union  he 
so  passionately  loved,  and  to  avoid  a  quarrel  between 
the  North  and  the  South.  To  do  this  he  was  con- 
tinually endeavoring  to  effect  what  was  called  a 
"  compromise  "  —  that  is,  a  little  giving  in  by  both 
sides  to  the  controversy  in  the  interest  of  unity  and 
peace. 

Henry  Clay  brought  about  by  his  efforts  three 
such  concessions  in  three  historic  compromises  — 
in  1821,  in  1833,  and  in  1850.  The  first  of  these 
was  the  famous  Missouri  compromise.  The  North 
endeavored  to  prevent  the  admission  of  Missouri  into 
the  Union  as  a  slave  State ;  the  South  insisted  upon 
it.  By  the  leadership  and  through  the  influence 
of  Clay  slaves  were  permitted  in  Missouri,  but  ex- 
cluded from  all  other  territory  north  of  the  Arkansas 
line.  The  quarrel  was  temporarily  healed,  and  Clay 
was  accorded  the  title  of  the  "  Great  Pacificator." 
The  second  arose  from  the  conflict  over  the  tariff  of 
1833,  when  President  Jackson  throttled  the  rebel- 
lion of  South  Carolina.  Clay  labored  to  patch  up 


HENRY    CLAY.  285 

the  dispute  by  a  gradual  reduction  of  the  objection- 
able tariff  during  ten  years,  and  again  the  breach 
was  healed  by  the  masterly  work  of  Henry  Clay. 
The  third  was  known  as  the  compromise  of  1850. 
This  was  to  settle  the  disputes  that  had  grown  up 
between  the  States  over  the  subject  of  slavery. 
They  were  many  and  bitter,  but  by  concessions  alike 
by  the  North  and  South,  arranged,  pleaded  for,  and 
pushed  to  acceptance  by  Clay,  the  "  inevitable  con- 
flict "  was  again  averted,  and  the  "  compromise  of 
1850  "  was  regarded  as  the  crowning  triumph  of 
Henry  Clay's  brilliant  achievements.  It  only  post- 
poned things  for  a  short  time ;  but  the  Great  Paci- 
ficator, like  Daniel  Webster,  his  associate,  rival,  and 
ally,  died  before  the  actual  disturbance  came,  and 
he,  at  least,  was  spared  the  sight  of  the  conflict  he 
had  labored  to  avert. 

"  Let  us  discard  all  resentments,"  he  said,  as  he 
urged  this  final  compromise,  "  all  passions,  all  petty 
jealousies,  all  personal  desires,  all  love  of  peace,  all 
hungering  after  gilded  crumbs  which  fall  from  the 
table  of  power.  Let  us  forget  popular  fears,  from 
whatever  quarter  they  may  spring.  Let  us  go  to 
the  fountain  of  unadulterated  patriotism,  and  per- 
forming a  solemn  lustration,  return  divested  of  all 
selfish,  sinister,  and  sordid  impurities,  and  think 
alone  of  our  God,  our  country,  our  conscience,  and 
our  glorious  Union." 

It  was  an  appeal  that  went  to  the  hearts  of  his 
listeners  and  helped  largely  to  still  the  passions  that 


286  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

were  flaming  into  open  danger.  When  next  they 
flared  up  unrestrainedly  there  was  no  Henry  Clay 
alive  to  stifle  or  restrain  them.  It  is  a  question 
whether  even  his  matchless  methods  could  have 
effected  a  compromise  in  1860.  New  men  and  new 
measures  had  come  to  the  surface ;  the  day  was  for 
a  Lincoln,  and  not  for  a  Clay,  and  the  conflict  that 
was  inevitable  could  be  no  longer  postponed.  But 
even  in  that  time  of  trial  and  of  breaking  bonds 
Kentucky  stood  true  to  the  Union,  resisting  all 
the  frantic  endeavors  made  to  draw  her  into  the 
Confederacy,  —  a  tribute  alike  to  the  marvellous 
patience  and  tact  of  Abraham  Lincoln  and  to  the 
love  for  the  Union  instilled  into  the  people  of  his 
own  State  by  Henry  Clay. 

He  was  a  true  American.  His  policy  was  Ameri- 
can, hence  it  was  popular ;  and  out  of  this  popu- 
larity grew  the  ambition  that  was  never  gratified, 
the  feeling  that  in  time  the  people  of  the  United 
States  desired  and  would  make  Henry  Clay  their 
president.  From  1822  to  1848  —  a  quarter  of  a 
century  —  Henry  Clay  was  the  perpetual  presiden- 
tial choice  of  a  vociferous  portion  of  the  American 
people.  Five  times  presented  as  a  candidate,  he 
was  always  -beaten,  twice  in  convention  and  three 
times  at  the  polls. 

"  It  was  enough  to  ruin  any  man,  body  and 
soul,"  says  Mr.  Parton ;  "  but  the  most  wonderful 
thing  we  have  to  say  of  Henry  Clay  is  that,  such 
were  his  native  sincerity  and  healthfulness  of  mind, 


HENRY    CLAY.  287 

he  came  out  of  this  fiery  trial  still  a  patriot  and  a 
man  of  honor." 

So  ardent  and  splendid  a  party  chief  always 
makes  enemies.  The  crowds  cheered  for  "The  mill 
boy  of  the  Slashes  "  and  "  Harry  of  the  West,"  as 
they  loved  to  call  their  magnetic  leader;  but  he 
always  failed  either  of  nomination  or  election. 
For  twenty-six  years  the  prize  of  the  presidency 
dangled  before  the  eyes  of  Henry  Clay,  only  to  be 
snatched  away  by  less  able  men,  and  always  to 
accomplish  the  desire  he  had  more  at  heart  —  har- 
mony and  union. 

"  I  had  rather  be  right  than  president,"  he  said, 
and  there  is  no  shadow  of  doubt  that  he  meant  this 
honestly,  and  displayed  in  his  life  those  qualities 
of  loyalty  to  the  will  of  the  majority  which  stamp 
as  the  real  lover  of  his  country  the  man  who  can 
accept  disappointments  without  a  murmur,  and  take 
defeat  gracefully. 

He  served  his  country  faithfully  and  well,  and 
if  he  held  the  laudable  desire  to  serve  the  Republic 
as  its  chief  magistrate  no  one  should  belittle  or 
criticise  that  ambition. 

"  Mr.  Clay  might  have  been  elected,"  Horace 
Greeley  avers,  "  if  his  prominent,  earnest  supporters 
had  made  the  requisite  exertions  and  sacrifices ; 
and  I  cannot  but  bitterly  feel  that  great  and  last- 
ing public  calamities  would  thereby  have  been 
averted." 

"  If  to  have  served  my  country  during  a    long 


288  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

series  of  years,"  said  Henry  Clay,  as  he  reviewed 
his  honorable  career,  "  with  fervent  zeal  and 
unshaken  fidelity,  in  seasons  of  peace  and  war,  at 
home  and  abroad,  in  the  legislative  halls  and  in  an 
executive  department;  if  to  have  labored  most 
sedulously  to  avert  the  embarrassment  and  distress 
which  now  overspread  this  Union,  and  when  they 
came,  to  have  exerted  myself  anxiously  to  devise 
healing  remedies ;  if  to  have  desired  to  introduce 
economy  and  reform  in  the  general  administration, 
curtail  enormous  executive  power,  and  amply  pro- 
vide at  the  same  time  for  the  wants  of  the  govern- 
ment and  the  wants  of  the  people,  by  a  tariff  which 
would  give  it  revenue  and  then  protection  ;  if  to 
have  earnestly  sought  to  establish  the  bright  but 
too  rare  example  of  a  party  in  power  faithful  to  its 
promises  and  pledges  made  when  out  of  power ;  if 
these  services,  exertions,  and  endeavors  justify  the 
accusation  of  ambition  I  must  plead  guilty  to  the 
charge." 

It  was  an  honorable  and  fearless  challenge  to 
the  world,  and  no  man  could  disprove  it ;  it  was  a 
long  record  of  service  to  the  Republic  faithfully 
performed,  and  the  old  "hero  of  the  forum"  could 
retire  to  his  beautiful  Ashland,  his  big  Kentucky 
farm  near  Lexington,  satisfied  at  least  that,  as  he 
himself  declared,  he  had  never  attempted  to  gain 
the  good  opinion  of  the  world  "  by  any  low  or 
grovelling  arts,  by  any  mean  or  unworthy  sacrifices, 
by  the  violation  of  any  of  the  obligations  of  honor, 


HENRY    CLAY.  289 

or  by  a  breach  of  any  of  the  duties  which  I  owed 
to  my  country." 

But  even  this  retirement  was  not  permitted  to 
continue.  At  the  age  of  seventy-two  he  was  again 
sent  to  the  Senate  (in  the  year  1849),  there  to  labor 
for  and  effect  the  last  and  famous  compromise  of 
1850.  Then  he  died,  his  duty  done,  his  life-work 
accomplished,  his  record  complete.  He  lies,  to-day, 
beneath  the  towering  marble  shaft  that  springs 
from  the  green  turf  of  the  Lexington  cemetery,  in 
the  beautiful  blue-grass  region  that  he  loved  so  well, 
and  on  the  base  of  the  monument,  which  is  topped 
by  the  ever-familiar  figure  of  the  great  peacemaker, 
are  carved  these  words,  prepared  by  him  as  a  mes- 
sage to  his  countrymen : 

"  I  can  with  unshaken  confidence  appeal  to  the 
divine  Arbiter  for  the  truth  of  the  declaration  that 
I  have  been  influenced  by  no  impure  purpose,  no 
personal  motive,  have  sought  no  personal  aggran- 
dizement, but  that  in  all  my  public  acts  I  have  had 
a  sole  and  single  eye,  and  a  warm,  devoted  heart, 
directed  and  dedicated  to  what,  in  my  best  judg- 
ment, I  believe  to  be  the  true  interests  of  my  coun- 
try." 

That  inscription  no  man  to-day  will  question. 
The  feuds  and  animosities  of  the  years  in  which 
he  lived  have  long  since  died  away  and  only  the 
memory  of  the  gracious  presence,  the  fascinating 
manners,  the  musical  voice,  the  kindly  courtesy, 
and  the  devoted  patriotism  of  Henry  Clay  remain. 


290  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

He  was  a  notable  figure  in  the  history  of  the  Repub- 
lic. Imperious,  headstrong,  brilliant,  imaginative, 
restless  under  advice,  impatient  under  criticism,  he 
lacked  caution  as  a  leader  and  accuracy  as  a  guide. 
Though  fearless  as  a  party  chieftain  he  fought 
mostly  for  peace  and  compromise,  and  though  ambi- 
tious for  the  presidency  he  desired  it  for  national 
rather  than  personal  ends.  A  statesman  and  not  a 
politician,  he  hated  selfishness  in  office  and  greed 
in  public  trust,  so  that  his  integrity  as  a  man  and  a 
citizen  is  free  from  spot  or  stain.  Beloved  by  hosts 
of  followers,  his  record  is  that  of  a  great  historic 
American,  and  his  life  and  labors  will  ever  live,  an 
honored  chapter  in  the  story  of  the  Republic  he 
loved  so  devotedly  and  served  so  faithfully. 


XXI. 

THE  STORY  OF  JOHN  CALDWELL  CAL- 
HOUN,    OF   SOUTH   CAROLINA, 

CALLED    "THE   GREAT   NULLIFIEB." 


Born  near  Abbeville,  South  Carolina,  March-18, 1782. 
Died  at  Washington,  March  31,  1850. 


"  It  was  his  solemn  conviction  that  throughout  his  life  he 
had  faithfully  done  his  duty,  both  to  the  Union  and  to  his  sec- 
tion. .  .  .  But,  in  perfect  good  faith,  he  had  undertaken 
what  no  man  could  accomplish,  because  it  was  a  physical  and 
moral  impossibility."  —  Hermann  Edward  von  Hoist. 

THIS  is  the  story  of  a  failure.  But  as  nothing 
that  God  created  or  allowed  is  ever  really  a  failure 
it  is  also  the  story  of  success.  Let  me  try  to  tell 
you  how  the  life  of  John  Caldwell  Calhoun  was 
both  a  failure  and  a  success. 

On  the  fourth  of  November,  1811,  there  came  to 
the  House  of  Representatives  in  Washington  as 
one  of  the  congressmen  from  South  Carolina  a  tall, 
thin,  large-headed,  and  heavy-haired  young  Southern 
gentleman  of  twenty-nine  of  whom  little  was  known 
except  that  he  was  a  lawyer  of  Abbeville,  in  the 
upper  counties  of  South  Carolina,  a  graduate  of 
Yale  College,  a  bright  and  able  young  fellow  of 

291 


292  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

whom  his  classmates  had  declared  that  some  day 
he  was  likely  to  become  president  of  the  United 
States,  so  logical  was  his  mind,  so  strong  his  con- 
viction, so  marked  his  character  as  a  born  leader  of 
men. 

He  had  not,  as  yet,  had  much  experience  in 
leadership.  The  son  of  an  Irish-American  farmer  of 
the  Abbeville  district,  his  home  life  had  been  quiet 
and  simple,  and  his  schooling  but  imperfect  until 
he  had  reached  his  eighteenth  year.  His  character 
.was  rather  that  of  the  lonely,  thoughtful,  medita- 
tive boy  than  the  careless,  happy,  healthy  com- 
rade of  other  boys  as  mischievous  and  natural  as 
he.  He  loved  the  solitary  ramble  in  the  woods 
more  than  the  stirring  life  of  town  or  village,  and 
being  but  little  with  those  of  his  own  age  he  grew 
to  be  quiet  and  self-contained,  but  also  to  have  so 
firm  a  faith  in  the  exactness  of  his  own  decisions 
and  conclusions  that  he  could  not  admit  the  truth 
of  any  opposition. 

To  Yale  went  this  positive  young  South  Carolina 
boy  at  eighteen,  so  well  prepared  by  two  years  of 
preparatory  study  that  he  entered  the  junior  class, 
graduating  with  honor  and  with  the  reputation  of 
being  a  temperate,  honest,  orderly,  and  good  young 
man  in  every  way,  but  without  an  atom  of  fun  in 
his  constitution.  Indeed,  it  is  said  of  him  that  he 
never  made  a  joke  in  his  life  and  had  no  more  idea 
of  humor  than  he  had  of  football  —  of  which  he 
knew  nothing. 


JOHN    CALDWELL    CALHOUN.  293 

After  a  course  in  the  Law  School  he  went  back 
to  his  Southern  home  to  set  up  for  himself  in  the 
practice  of  the  law,  but  just  at  that  time  came  the 
outrageous  attack  by  the  British  frigate  "  Leopard  " 
upon  the  United  States  man-of-war  "  Chesapeake." 
This  affair  stirred  the  Americans  of  1806  quite  as 
deeply  as  did  the  affair  of  the  "  Maine "  in  1898, 
and  set  the  newspapers  to  threatening  and  the  orators 
to  speaking,  then  as  now.  It  drew  a  speech  from 
young  John  Caldwell  Calhoun  before  his  incensed 
neighbors  of  Abbeville,  and  they  liked  his  speech  so 
well  that  they  elected  him  to  the  State  Legislature, 
and  a  few  years  later  by  a  very  large  majority  he 
was  sent  to  Congress. 

Six  weeks  after  he  took  his  seat  in  Congress  Mr. 
Calhoun  made  a  speech  in  favor  of  the  war  with 
England,  towards  which  the  country  was  speedily 
drifting.  The  speech  was  deemed  so  strong  and 
convincing  that  this  young  member  from  South 
Carolina  was  considered  a  "find"  and  was  speedily 
pushed  forward  until  he  became  one  of  the  leaders 
of  the  war  party  in  Congress,  and,  as  such,  prepared 
and  reported  a  set  of  resolutions  pledging  the  Re- 
public to  war,  because,  as  his  resolutions  expressed 
it,  "-We  must  now  tamely  and  quietly  submit  or  we 
must  resist  by  those  means  which  God  has  placed 
within  our  reach.  .  .  .  The  period  has  arrived 
when  it  is  the  sacred  duty  of  Congress  to  call  forth 
the  patriotism  and  resources  of  the  country." 

So,  President  Madison  was  forced  into  the  war 


294  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

of  1812,  and  young  Mr.  Calhoun  continued  through- 
out its  most  earnest  advocate,  demanding  vigorous 
action. 

"  We  have  had  a  peace  like  a  war,"  he  declared. 
"  In  the  name  of  Heaven  let  us  not  have  the  only 
thing  that  is  worse  —  a  war  like  a  peace ! " 

He  was  one  of  the  most  practical  if  one  of  the 
most  energetic  of  the  war-shouters ;  for  he  learned 
a  lesson  from  the  disasters  of  1812,  and  he  advocated 
preparation  for  war,  while  others  delayed  or  post- 
poned action,  or  wished  to  let  well  enough  alone. 
Calhoun  pleaded  for  an  increased  navy,  as  "  the  most 
safe,  most  effectual,  and  cheapest  mode  of  defence ;  " 
he  advocated  internal  improvements  as  the  best  way 
of  bringing  the  people  of  all  sections  of  the  country 
closer  together  ;  and  railroads  not  being  then  known 
or  thought  of,  he  said :  "  Let  us  make  great  perma- 
nent roads ;  not  like  the  Romans  with  the  view  of 
subjecting  and  ruling  provinces,  but  for  the  more 
honorable  purposes  of  defence,  and  of  connecting 
more  closely  the  interests  of  different  sections  of 
the  country." 

In  all  this,  you  see,  Calhoun  was  at  that  time  as 
ardent  a  nationalist  as  Clay  or  Webster.  How 
sad  that  selfishness  and  sectionalism  should  have 
led  him  from  the  paths  of  patriotism  to  those  of 
disunion ! 

For  they  did.  Gradually,  under  various  influ- 
ences, the  nature  of  Calhoun  grew  straitened  and 
limited,  and  the  man  who  said  at  one  time  in  the 


JOHN    CALDWELL    CALHOUN.  295 

halls  of  Congress  that  "  the  liberty  and  union  of  this 
country  are  inseparable,"  and  that  "the  single  word 
'  disunion '  comprehends  almost  the  sum  of  our  polit- 
ical dangers  against  which  we  should  be  perpetu- 
ally guarded,"  changed  into  the  man  who  could 
say  later  in  life :  "  It  is  a  great  and  dangerous 
error  to  suppose  that  all  people  are  equally  entitled 
to  liberty,"  and,  also,  "  The  conditions  impelling  the 
government  towards  disunion  are  very  powerful." 

He  came  into  this  change  through  a  selfish  regard 
for  the  interests  of  his  own  section  rather  than  of 
the  whole  Union,  but  chiefly  because  he  saw  what, 
years  after,  Abraham  Lincoln  saw  and  put  into 
his  terse  and  vigorous  speech :  "  This  nation  cannot 
endure  half  slave  and  half  free,"  and  " '  a  house 
divided  against  itself  cannot  stand.' " 

Calhoun  saw  this  as  early  as  1830;  he  knew  that 
already  the  question  of  slavery  had  split  the  Union 
into  two  sections ;  and  as  an  advocate  of  slavery 
and  a  firm  defender  of  what  he  thought  to  be  the 
needs  and  the  rights  of  his  section  he  openly 
declared  that  "  The  great  dissimilarity  and,  as  I 
must  add,  as  truth  compels  me  to  do,  contrariety  of 
interests  in  our  country,  are  so  great  that  they 
cannot  be  subjected  to  the  unchecked  will  of  a 
majority  of  the  whole  without  defeating  the  great 
end  of  government,  without  which  it  is  a  curse,  — 
justice." 

So,  you  see,  Calhoun  came  to  believe,  at  last,  so 
thoroughly  in  State  sovereignty  and  State  rights 


296  HISTORIC    AMERICANS.    . 

that  lie  came  very  near  to  breaking  up  the  Union 
which  had  elevated  and  honored  him. 

He  occupied  high  positions  in  the  councils  of  the 
Republic.  He  was  a  congressman  from  1811  to 
1817;  he  was  secretary  of  war,  in  President  Mon- 
roe's Cabinet,  from  1817  to  1825;  he  was  twice 
vice-president  of  the  United  States,  from  1825  to 
1833;  he  was  United  States  senator  from  1833  to 
his  death  in  1850,  broken  only  by  his  brief  term  as 
secretary  of  state  under  President  Tyler  in  1845. 

And  he  earnestly  desired  to  be  president.  Like 
those  other  "  giants  of  the  forties,"  Daniel  Webster 
and  Henry  Clay,  he  yearned  for  the  presidency,  but 
never  reached  it.  There  are  indeed  numerous  sim- 
ilarities, we  might  almost  say  coincidences,  in 
the  careers  of  those  three  great  senators.  Each 
was  a  leader,  each  aspired  to  the  highest  place  in 
the  Republic,  and  each  failed  of  success.  They 
we're  all  born  in  the  same  period,  about  1780;  they 
all  died  in  the  same  period,  about  1850.  But  in 
personal  characteristics  they  were  as  dissimilar  as 
they  were  in  appearance  and  methods  of  statesman- 
ship. A  comparative  study  of  their  lives  will,  how- 
ever, be  found  of  great  interest,  for  their  positions 
were  equally  prominent  and  their  influence  equally 
great. 

It  was  while  he  was  vice-president  that  he  for- 
sook the  national  faith  that  had  marked  his  entrance 
into  public  life  for  that  sectional  faith  to  which  the 
last  twenty  years  of  his  life  were  devoted. 


JOHN    CALDWELL    CALHOUN.  297 

Even  in  this  change  he  was  honest  and  consists 
ent.  He  had  seen  for  years  that  the  question  of 
slavery  was  to  be  the  thing  upon  which  union  or 
disunion  was  to  turn,  and  as  he  believed  that 
the  Southern  States  could  have  no  successful  future 
without  slavery  he  devoted  all  his  great  powers  to 
maintaining  that  institution  and  to  forcing  the 
Northern  States  either  to  yield  or  to  agree  to  a 
separation.  "  His  veering  round  was  gradual," 
says  Mr.  von  Hoist,  "  because  it  was  not  done  to 
serve  some  impure  personal  end,  but  was  the  result 
of  an  honest  change  in  his  opinions.  After  it  had 
once  begun  it  went  steadily  on  without  pausing 
for  a  single  moment,  because  he  had  taken  his 
stand  on  a  principle,  and  followed  up  the  conse- 
quences of  it  with  masterly  logic  and  fatalistic 
sternness  of  purpose." 

We  honor  the  man  who  has  what  we  call  the 
courage  of  his  convictions.  John  Caldwell  Cal- 
houn  certainly  had  this  courage.  So,  while  we 
deplore  and  abhor  his  belief  and  his  methods,  we 
can  still  admit  that  he  acted  from  what  seemed  to 
him  right  motives.  Even  though  he  was  the  chief 
and  most  eloquent  advocate  of  slavery,  he  was  so, 
as  has  been  said,  from  principle,  and  even  if  we  hate 
his  conclusions  we  must  honor  his  integrity.  No 
man  ever  questioned  his  sincerity,  even  those  who 
battled  the  hardest  against  his  views  and  methods. 

His  first,  in  fact  his  main,  battle  was  upon  the 
question  of  State  rights.  Calhoun  held  that  each 


298  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

State  was  an  independent  power  and  that  it  had  the 
right,  under  the  Constitution,  to  act  for  itself  on 
supreme  questions,  even  to  act  contrary  to  a  law  of 
the  nation,  —  in  other  words,  to  regard  such  a  law 
as  null  and  void.  From  that  comes  the  word  "  nul- 
lification," that,  from  1830  to  1840,  played  so  great 
a  part  in  American  history,  and  which,  because  in 
him  it  had  its  stanchest  advocate  and  supporter, 
gained  for  John  C.  Calhoun  the  name  of  "  the  Great 
Nullifier." 

I  have  told  you  that  he  had  the  courage  of  his 
convictions.  He  certainly  had.  He  boldly  claimed 
that  if  the  slave-holding  States  continued  in  the 
Union  slavery  would  have  to  be  given  up  by  them, 
and  for  this  honest  declaration  he  was  as  vehe- 
mently accused  of  trying  to  stir  up  trouble  as  were 
even  Charles  Sumner  and  his  fellow-workers  for 
anti-slavery.  So,  while  other  law-makers  tried  to 
compromise  and  fix  up  things  between  the  States, 
while  Webster  made  his  grand  plea  for  liberty  and 
union,  while  Clay  sought  to  unite  by  yielding,  John 
C.  Calhoun  spoke  "  right  out  in  meeting,"  as  the 
old  saying  runs,  and  boldly  and  bravely  stated  his 
belief. 

We  can  almost  see  him  now  as  he  rises  in  his 
place  in  the  Senate,  that  tall,  straight,  unbending 
South  Carolinian,  a  "cast-iron  man,"  Miss  Marti- 
neau  called  him,  "  who  looks  as  if  he  had  never  been 
born  and  could  never  be  extinguished."  Above  a 
straight,  clear  forehead  rises  the  stiff  shock  of  up- 


JOHN    CALDWELL    CALHOUN.  299 

right,  dark  hair ;  the  eyes  are  intense,  the  brow 
stern,  the  mouth  marked  with  will  and  determina- 
tion. He  speaks  with  the  sincerity  of  truth  and  the 
pathos  of  regret ;  but  his  voice,  harsh  and  unmusical, 
is  yet  tremulous  with  earnestness  and  conviction. 

"  We  love  and  cherish  the  Union,"  he  says ;  "  we 
remember  with  the  kindest  feelings  our  common 
origin,  with  pride  our  common  achievements,  and 
fondly  anticipate  the  common  greatness  and  glory 
that  seem  to  await  us.  But  origin,  achievements, 
and  anticipation  of  common  greatness  are  to  us  as 
nothing  compared  with  this  question.  It  is  to  us 
a  vital  question.  It  involves  not  only  our  liberty, 
but  what  is  greater  (if  to  freemen  anything  can  be) 
—  existence  itself.  The  relation  which  now  exists 
between  the  two  races  in  the  slave-holding  States  has 
existed  for  two  centuries.  It  has  grown  with  our 
growth  and  strengthened  with  our  strength.  It 
has  entered  into  and  modified  all  our  institutions, 
civil  and  political.  None  other  can  be  substituted. 
We  will  not,  cannot,  permit  it  to  be  destroyed. 
Come  what  will,  should  it  cost  every  drop  of  blood 
and  every  cent  of  property,  we  must  defend  our- 
selves ;  and  if  compelled,  we  would-  stand  justified 
by  all  laws,  human  and  divine  ;  we  would  act  under 
an  imperious  necessity.  There  would  be  to  us  but 
one  alternative  —  to  triumph  or  perish  as  a  people. 
I  ask  neither  sympathy  nor  compassion  for  the 
slave-holding  States.  We  can  take  care  of  our- 
selves. It  is  not  we  but  the  Union  which  is  in 


300  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

danger.  We  cannot  remain  here  in  an  endless 
struggle  in  defence  of  our  character,  our  property 
and  institutions." 

That  does  not  sound  much  like  Webster's  grand 
plea  for  liberty  and  union,  does  it?  It  rang  with 
the  notes  of  warning  and  of  defiance.  But  it  was  a 
threat,  and  not  an  appeal.  It  was  a  prophecy,  too, 
that  found  its  climax  and  counterpart  in  the  grand 
words  of  Lincoln's  second  inaugural  —  words  as 
deep,  as  forceful,  as  instinct  with  courage,  determi- 
nation, and  assurance  as  had  been  these  defiant  and 
prophetic  words  of  the  "  Great  Nullifier,"  thirty 
years  before. 

"  Fondly  do  we  hope,  fervently  do  we  pray,"  said 
Abraham  Lincoln,  "  that  this  mighty  scourge  of 
war  may  speedily  pass  away  ;  yet  if  God  wills  that 
it  continue  until  all  the  wealth  piled  by  the  bond- 
man's two  hundred  and  fifty  years  of  unrequited 
toil  shall  be  sunk,  and  every  drop  of  blood  drawn 
by  the  lash  shall  be  paid  by  another  drawn  by 
the  sword,  —  as  was  said  three  thousand  years  ago, 
—  so  it  must  still  be  said,  '  the  judgments  of  the 
Lord  are  true  and  righteous  altogether.' ' 

Calhoun  was  a  far-seeing  man.  He  was  un- 
doubtedly the  deepest  thinker  and  the  mightiest 
intellect  of  his  day  in  the  Southern  States,  and  he 
alone,  of  all  his  associates,  could  look  ahead  and  see 
the  very  thing  that  came  to  pass  —  an  attempt  to 
sever  the  Union  of  the  States  because  of  differences 
in  regard  to  slavery. 


JOHN    CALDWELL    CALHOUN.  301 

He  did  not  desire  disunion  ;  he  was  not  an  advo- 
cate of  secession.  But  he  did  desire  a  union  of  the 
slave-holding  States  so  strong  and  so  determined  as 
to  overawe  the  North ;  he  did  advocate  such  meas- 
ures as  should  force  the  quarrel  upon  the  Northern 
States  so  that  they  and  not  the  Southern  States 
should  seem  to  the  world  to  be  in  the  wrong ;  and 
he  placed  slavery  as  the  need  and  very  life  of  the 
South  above  all  other  considerations,  because  he 
honestly  believed  that  only  with  slavery  could  pros- 
perity and  success  be  secured  to  his  section  of  the 
Union.  So  he  bent  all  his  energies  to  that  one  end 
—  the  strengthening  and  extension  of  slavery. 
For  that  purpose  he  worked  for  the  annexation  of 
Texas ;  he  labored  to  force  slavery  into  the  Terri- 
tories and  prevent  the  passage  of  any  laws  that 
should  keep  it  out.  For  that  reason,  too,  he  opposed 
war  with  Mexico  and  labored  against  a  third  war 
with  England  over  the  Oregon  boundaries  in  1848, 
because  he  feared  that  these  would  divert  the  atten- 
tion of  the  South  from  its  own  personal  concerns  and 
unite  the  North  in  a  way  that  would  defeat  his  sec- 
tional desires.  Selfish  or  not,  it  was  largely  to  John 
C.  Calhoun's  influence  and  action  that  this  unnec- 
essary war  with  England  was  averted,  and  for  this  the 
Republic  owes  him  recognition,  thanks,  and  honor. 

More  clearly  than  any  other  of  the  leaders  in 
the  South  Calhoun  saw  that  the  steady  tendency  of 
the  North  was  towards  the  abolition  of  slavery  - 
even  though  the  North  itself  did  not  recognize  the 


302  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

gradual  growth  of  that  current  of  opinion ;  and  all 
his  last  years  were  shadowed  by  the  knowledge  that 
his  efforts  had  been  in  vain,  and  his  bold  and  out- 
spoken stand  had  brought  him  only  failure. 

Broken  in  health  and  weak  in  body,  he  fought  for 
his  pet  theory  until  the  last.  Sectional  instead  of 
national  in  his  love,  narrow  and  limited  in  his 
views,  holding  what  he  called  allegiance  to  his  State 
as  above  loyalty  to  the  Union,  and  counting  the 
establishment  of  slavery  as  the  highest  good,  as 
well  as  the  supreme  duty  of  the  South,  he  stood  to 
the  last,  honest  in  his  convictions,  firm  in  his  pur- 
poses, bold  in  his  utterances.  It  is  well  for  all 
Americans,  old  and  young,  to  remember  this,  and  to 
know  that,  though  mistaken  in  his  opinions,  and 
absolutely  wrong  in  his  exertions,  he  did  his  duty 
as  he  saw  it,  and  lived  up  to  his  convictions  like  an 
upright,  sincere,  and  thoroughly  honest  man. 

"If  I  know  myself,  even  if  my  head  were  at 
stake,  I  would  do  my  duty,"  he  declared  in  the 
Senate  of  the  United  States.  "  I  would  do  my  duty, 
be  the  consequences  what  they  might." 

The  very  last  words  of  the  very  last  speech 
which  he,  weak  and  almost  dying,  made  in  the 
Senate  on  the  fourth  of  March,  1850,  were  in  the 
same  vein :  "  Having  faithfully  done  my  duty  to 
the  best  of  my  ability,  both  to  the  Union  and  to  my 
section,  throughout  this  agitation,  I  shall  have  the 
consolation,  let  what  will  come,  that  I  am  free  from 
all  responsibility." 


JOHN    CALDWELL    CALHOUN.  303 

It  was  this  speech,  this  last  firm  utterance  of  a 
great  man,  wrong  headed  but  thoroughly  convinced 
that  he  and  he  alone  was  right,  that  led  Daniel 
Webster  to  say  of  this  determined  man :  "  There 
was  not  one  of  us  who  did  not  feel  that  we  might 
imagine  that  we  saw  before  us  a  Senator  of  Rome 
when  Rome  survived." 

But  Rome  fell,  and  with  its  fall  came,  in  time, 
the  enlightenment,  the  progress,  and  the  upward 
trend  of  man.  And  even  in  his  failure  John  C. 
Calhoun  helped  on  the  growth  and  bettering  of  the 
world. 

He  left  the  Senate  to  die.  On  the  thirty-first  of 
March,  1850,  he  died  in  the  city  of  Washington, 
where  so  much  of  his  life  had  been  passed,  and 
where  he  had  waged  so  valiantly  a  losing  fight  for 
a  doomed  and  fading  evil. 

"  The  South !  The  poor  South  !  "  were  almost 
his  last  words,  "  God  knows  what  will  become  of 
her."  And  so  he  died. 

God  in  his  infinite  mercy  did  know  what  would 
become  of  the  "poor  South"  for  which  Calhoun 
battled  so  gallantly.  Through  blood  and  tears  the 
God  to  whom  this  great  champion  made  his  last 
despairing  cry  brought  the  South  through  night  to 
light ;  and  in  the  freedom  of  man,  which,  as  the 
twentieth  century  dawns,  is  the  boon  and  blessing 
of  the  great  Republic,  the  South  already  sees  the 
best  and  surest  foundation  for  the  Union's  grand 
and  successful  future.  And  as  the  years  go  by,  the 


304  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

South  herself  will  be  the  first  to  see  and  appre- 
ciate that  what  John  C.  Calhoun  deemed  failure 
and  disaster  has  proved  instead  a  glorious  and  last- 
ing success. 

"  I  hold  it  truth  with  him  who  sings 

That  men  may  rise  on  stepping-stones 
Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things." 

Upon  the  lives  and  labor  of  such  stepping-stones 
as  Calhoun  and  his  honest  supporters  in  a  mistaken 
theory  the  new  South  has  climbed  upward  to  free- 
dom, security,  and  loyalty. 

The  life  story  of  John  Caldwell  Calhoun  is  that 
of  an  apparent  failure  worked  out  in  ways  he 
could  not  see  to  beneficial  ends  and  final  success. 
It  is  that  of  an  earnest  and  honest  endeavor  to- 
wards what  he  deemed  just,  wise,  and  patriotic  ends. 
Success  depends  largely  upon  the  point  of  view,  and 
though  to  his  standpoint  the  world  has  applied  the 
verdict,  "  A  mistake,"  yet  we  must  not  forget  that 
Calhoun  was  a  famous  and  historic  American, 
South  Carolina's  most  eminent  son,  a  man  who  has 
built  himself  into  the  life  and  traditions  of  the 
Republic. 

"  He  had  the  basis,  the  indispensable  basis,"  said 
Daniel  Webster,  "of  all  high  character,  and  that 
was  unspotted  integrity,  unimpeached  honor,  and 
character.  There  was  nothing  grovelling  or  low  or 
meanly  selfish  that  came  near  the  head  or  the  heart 
of  John  C.  Calhoun." 


XXII. 

THE  STORY  OF  SAMUEL  FINLEY  BREESE 
MORSE,  OF  NEW  YORK, 

CALLED    "  THE    FATHER    OF    AMERICAN 
TELEGRAPHY." 


Born  at  Charlestown,  Massachusetts,  April  27, 1791. 
Died  in  New  York  City,  April  2, 1872. 


' '  We  raise  this  statue,  not  to  buried  but  to  living  merit —  to 
a  great  discoverer  who  yet  sits  among  us,  a  witness  of  honors 
which  are  but  the  first  fruits  of  that  ample  harvest  which  his 
memory  will  gather  in  the  long  season  yet  to  come." —  William 
Cullen  Bryant  (at  dedication  of  Morse  Statue  in  New  York). 

THE  good  ship  "  Sully,"  ocean  packet  between 
Havre  and  New  York,  was  cleaving  its  way  through 
mid-ocean  one  autumn  morning  in  the  year  1832. 
One  by  one  the  passengers  appeared  at  the  break- 
fast-table in  the  long  saloon,  exchanging  greetings, 
as  those  whom  the  daily  associations  of  those  long 
ocean  voyages  in  the  days  of  packets  and  clippers 
made  into  acquaintances  and  friends. 

One  whom  all  seemed  to  know  well  was  missing 
from  the  table. 

"  Where  's    Morse  ?  "     one   passenger  inquired, 
voicing  the  query  of  all. 
305 


306  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

"Late  again  this  morning,"  replied  another. 
"  I  don't  believe  the  man  has  slept  a  wink  for 
nights." 

"  How 's  that  ?     Thinking  out  another  picture  ?  " 

"No,  he 's  puttering  away  at  that  new  scheme  of 
his  to  make  a  machine  that  will  talk." 

"  Oh,  growing  out  of  that  magnetism  nonsense, 
eh  ?  Well,  my  advice  to  him  is  to  let  it  alone.  He  'd 
better  stick  to  pictures,  I  say.  He  's  good  for  some- 
thing as  an  historical  painter ;  but  that  magnetism 
business  is  just  a  loss  of  time.  Singular,  is  n't  it, 
how  men  will  be  led  away  into  such  vagaries? 
Magnetism  is  nothing  more  than  witchcraft.  I  '11 
wager  that  if  Morse  had  lived  a  couple  of  hundred 
years  ago  they  would  have  pressed  or  burned  him 
for  witchcraft,  in  Salem.  He  lives  in  Salem, 
doesn't  he?" 

"No,  no,  in  Charlestown,  next  place  to  Boston, 
you  know." 

"  Well,  that  was  near  enough  to  Salem  to  count 
in  witchcraft  days.  I  don't  believe  in  this  magnetic 
business.  It  's  sheer  folly,  if  it  is  n't  wickedness." 

"  That 's  narrow  talk  for  an  American  in  these 
enlightened  days.  I  've  talked  with  Morse  consider- 
ably, and  I  believe  he  's  got  a  practical  idea.  We 
were  discussing  the  matter  the  other  day  and  he 
explained  how  if  you  break  a  current  of  electricity 
you  make  a  spark;  break  it  again  and  you  make 
more  sparks.  '  Now,'  says  he,  '  if  the  presence  of 
electricity  can  be  made  visible  in  any  part  of  the 


SAMUEL    FINLEY   BREESE    MORSE.     307 

circuit  I  can  see  no  reason  why  intelligence  may 
not  be  transmitted  by  electricity.'  " 

"  Transmitting  intelligence !  Now,  is  n't  that 
absurd  ?  As  if  any  mere  machine,  or  any  making 
of  sparks,  could  carry  thoughts  !  I  call  it  nonsense. 
It 's  more  than  that,  it 's  sacrilegious  !  The  man  who 
tries  such  a  thing  is  tampering  with  Divine  attri- 
butes, and  that  is  sacrilege." 

"  Well,  sacrilege  or  not,  Morse  has  got  hold  of  an 
idea  and  is  working  it  to  some  end.  His  note-books 
are  filled  with  marks  which  he  tells  me  is  what  he 
calls  a  code, — representations  of  letters  and  figures, 
—  which  he  claims  can  be  made  by  electricity  and 
communicated  from  one  point  to  another  by  his 
magnetic  current.  Is  n't  that  so,  senator  ?  " 

"  It  certainly  is,"  the  man  addressed  as  senator 
replied,  "  and  I  agree  with  you  that  Morse  is  work- 
ing towards  some  practical  end.  It  is  practical,  I 
am  certain.  I  saw  some  applications  of  these  electro- 
magnetic sparks  in  France  that  were  most  remark- 
able. Morse  showed  me  some  drafts  in  this  cabin 
the  other  night  which  certainly  indicated  that  he  had 
a  definite  plan  in  his  head,  though  I  don't  precisely 
see  how  he  can  adapt  it.  But  he  says,  for  instance, 
a  spark  represents  one  sign ;  the  absence  of  a  spark 
may  represent  another ;  the  time  of  its  absence  still 
another.  Combine  these. signs  and  you  can  make 
an  alphabet.  '  This  instrument  I  have  in  mind,'  he 
said,  '  will  record  this  alphabet  at  a  distance,  and 
spell  it  into  words.  If  I  can  do  it  across  one  mile 


308  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

of  space,'  he  went  on, '  I  can  do  it  over  ten.  Why, 
the  sea,  the  ocean  itself,  need  be  no  barrier.  If  I 
can  make  it  go  ten  miles  without  stopping  I  can 
make  it  go  around  the  globe.'  It's  a  great  idea, 
gentlemen,"  the  senator  concluded,  "  but  whether 
it  can  be  made  feasible  or  practical  I  am  not  able 
to  say." 

The  passenger  who  had  no  faith  in  such  tamper- 
ings  with  Providence  was  on  the  point  of  emphasiz- 
ing objections  when  a  new-comer  took  his  seat  at 
the  table.  He  was  a  singularly  attractive  man :  tall, 
erect,  and  firm  of  bearing,  slender  in  person,  and 
graceful  in  figure,  his  face  expressed  refinement, 
dignity,  intellectuality,  and  delicate  sensibility. 
This  especial  morning  his  face  showed  unmistak- 
able signs  of  pleasurable  triumph. 

"  Good  morning,  gentlemen ;  good  morning,  sena- 
tor," he  said.  "  I  have  something  to  show  you,  sir, 
after  breakfast.  I  believe  I  have  got  it  at  last." 

"  Got  what,  Mr.  Morse,  —  that  idea  of  yours  in  a 
definite  shape?"  queried  the  senator. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  believe  I  have  equalled  the  miracle 
of  Puck,  and  shall  be  able  to  put  a  girdle  round  the 
earth  in  forty  minutes,"  Morse  replied.  "  At  last  I 
have  drawn  out  a  plan  of  an  electric  telegraph." 

At  once  his  friends  clamored  for  an  exhibition 
of  his  results,  and  nothing  loth,  never  attempting 
secrecy,  the  courteous  inventor  spread  out  his  papers 
upon  the  swaying  table  of  the  "  Sully's "  saloon 
and  showed  to  those  that  crowded  about  him  a  draw- 


SPREAD   OUT    HIS   PAPERS    UPON    THE   SWAYING    TABLE. 


SAMUEL    FINLEY   BREESE    MORSE.   -309 

ing  of  the  instrument  which,  so  he  declared,  would 
compel  a  current  of  electricity  to  pass  instan- 
taneously along  a  far-reaching  wire,  stretched  to 
any  distance,  and  to  record  the  signs  which  the 
despatcher  desired  to  convey. 

Few  of  his  fellow-voyagers  could  grasp  his  whole 
idea,  nor  did  they  believe  in  his  scheme ;  but  years 
after,  when  Samuel  Finley  Breese  Morse  con- 
structed a  machine  which  embodied  the  mechani- 
cal principles  now  in  use  all  over  the  world,  under 
the  name  of  the  electric  or  magnetic  telegraph, 
they  recognized  that  it  was  a  practical  adaptation 
of  those  very  drawings  which,  after  sleepless  nights 
of  thinking  and  planning,  Professor  Morse  had 
spread  out  for  their  inspection  upon  the  table  in 
the  cabin  of  the  packet  ship  "  Sully,"  in  the  month 
of  October,  1832. 

It  was  a  long  and  hard  road  to  success  that 
Samuel  Finley  Breese  Morse  was  called  upon  to 
travel,  and  he  met  with  many  adventures  by  the 
way.  Indeed,  few  lives  of  those  not  really  adven- 
turers are  more  checkered  with"  romance  and  ac- 
tion, failure  and  success. 

His  father  was  a  well-known  clergyman,  educa- 
tor, and  geography-maker  of  Charlestown,  Mass.; 
and  in  that  old  and  historic  town,  at  the  very  foot 
of  Breed's  hill,  whereon  was  fought  the  battle  called 
Bunker  hill,  in  a  house  still  standing  and  suitably 
marked  with  a  memorial  tablet,  Samuel  F.  B. 
Morse  was  born  on  the  twenty-seventh  of  April, 


310  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

1791.  It  was  the  first  dwelling-house  built  in 
Charlestown  after  the  British  burned  the  town  as 
a  "side  light"  to  their  disastrous  victory  at  Bunker 
hill ;  and  in  the  right  front  chamber  on  the  sec- 
ond floor  the  "  Father  of  American  Telegraphy  " 
was  born  as  the  eldest  son  of  "  the  Father  of  Amer- 
ican Geography."  At  fourteen  years  of  age  he 
was  sent  to  Yale  College,  and  there,  under  the 
instruction  of  such  makers  of  American  science  as 
Professors  Day  and  Silliman,  he  developed  a  taste 
for  electrical  studies  then  attracting  attention  and 
investigation  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic. 

But  his  tastes  at  that  time  showed  a  still  stronger 
bent  toward  art,  and  after  his  graduation  from  col- 
lege he  deliberately  chose  the  profession  of  artist, 
and  spent  several  years  in  Europe,  under  the  in- 
struction and  direction  of  those  famous  Americans, 
Allston  and  Copley  and  West.  He  attained  ex- 
traordinary success,  for  so  young  a  man,  as  an  his- 
torical painter,  winning  medals  and  prizes  for  his 
work,  and  having  before  him  the  promise  of  great 
success  as  a  painter  of  historical  subjects. 

With  this  prestige,  and  with  a  reputation  already 
secured,  Morse  sailed  for  America  in  1815,  and  set 
up  a  studio  as  a  Boston  artist.  But  although 
every  one  admired  his  paintings  neither  orders 
rtor  customers  came  to  him,  and  when,  at  last,  pa- 
tience and  money  were  exhausted,  Morse  actually 
"  took  to  the  road  "  and  started  through  New  Eng- 
land as  a  travelling  portrait  painter. 


SAMUEL    FINLEY   BREESE    MORSE.     311 

This  gave  him  a  career,  for  if  the  American  peo- 
ple did  not  care,  as  yet,  for  the  "  Judgment  of  Ju- 
piter," and  such  allegorical  or  historical  paintings, 
they  were  vain  enough  to  desire  portraits,  if  they 
were  only  "life-like."  Morse's  work  evidently 
reached  this  standard  of  excellence,  for  his  por- 
traits sold  and  his  prices  gradually  rose  from  ten 
and  fifteen  dollars  to  sixty  dollars  each,  while  a 
tour  through  the  South  resulted  in  so  much  cus- 
tom that  in  1818  he  was  earning  three  thousand 
dollars  a  year,  and  could  afford  to  marry. 

He  lived  in  Charleston,  S.C.,  and  in  Washing- 
ton, where  he  almost  wrecked  himself  financially 
on  a  grand  exhibition  painting  of  the  yet  unfinished 
Capitol  and  the  still  unappreciated  historical  sub- 
jects. Then,  at  last,  he  drifted  to  New  York, 
where  he  engaged  again  in  portrait  painting,  which 
seemed  to  be  his  especial  forte,  and  again  winning 
success  and  fame,  became  a  resident  of  New  York 
City  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 

It  was  there,  in  1826,  that  he  founded  the 
National  Academy  of  Design,  to-day  one  of  the 
art  centres  of  the  world.  Morse  was  its  first  presi- 
dent, and  continued  in  that  office  for  sixteen  years, 
acknowledged  as  the  leading  American  artist  of 
his  day. 

It  was  during  that  time  also  that  he  made  the  visit 
to  Europe  from  which  he  was  returning  when  we 
were  first  introduced  to  him  as  a  would-be  inventor 
in  the  dining-saloon  of  the  packet  ship  "  Sully ; "  and 


312  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

when  he  reached  New  York  he  found  that,  during 
his  absence,  he  had  been  elected  professor  of  the 
literature  of  the  arts  of  design  in  the  University 
of  New  York. 

But  he  had  returned  also  to  a  divided  duty.  For 
there  was  developing  in  his  soul  a  yearning  towards 
success  in  the  line  which,  from  his  college  days, 
had  occupied  a  large  share  of  his  thought  and 
study  —  communication  by  electricity;  that  won- 
derful discovery  from  which  sprang  at  last  the 
marvellous  electric  telegraph. 

This  investigation  had  received  a  fresh  impetus 
through  some  of  his  associations  with  scientific 
people  in  New  York,  and  his  acceptance  of  the 
professorship  in  the  New  York  University  was 
identical  with  his  determination  to  work  to  com- 
pletion the  plans  he  had  sketched  out  on  ship- 
board. 

But  when,  in  July,  1837,  he  had  reached  a  certain 
amount  of  success  in  his  experiments,  and  had  set 
up  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  university  two  tele- 
graphic instruments  by  which  he  was  able  to  com- 
municate through  seventeen  hundred  feet  of  copper 
wire  the  signs  of  his  self-made  code,  even  then 
people  were  not  ready  to  accept  the  demonstration 
as  a  great,  practical,  or  really  useful  invention. 
They  looked  upon  the  telegraph  as  an  entertaining 
toy,  but  they  did  not  believe  it  could  ever  be  made 
to  amount  to  anything,  either  as  a  means  of  real 
communication  or  as  a  profitable  investment. 


SAMUEL    FIN  LEY   BREESE    MORSE.     313 

The  Congress  of  the  United  States  took  the 
same  view  of  the  invention ;  for  when,  in  Sep- 
tember, 1837,  Professor  Morse  asked  Congress  to 
appropriate  a  sum  of  money  sufficient  for  him  to 
build  a  line  of  telegraph  long  enough  for  him  to 
experiment  on  a  real  telegraph  line  and  establish 
its  value  and  worth,  Congress  would  take  no 
notice  of  the  request,  even -though  the  committee 
to  whom  it  was  referred  favored  the  experiment. 

Disheartened  at  his  failure  to  be  appreciated  in 
his  own  land,  Morse  raised  enough  money  to  take 
him  to  Europe  for  the  purpose  of  endeavoring  to 
interest  some  foreign  government  in  his  enterprise. 
He  nearly  ruined  himself  in  this  attempt,  for  it 
also  proved  fruitless.  The  governments  of  Europe 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  his  invention,  al- 
though France  did  grant  him  a  patent  on  his  instru- 
ment and  then  deliberately  stole  the  patent. 

He  returned  to  America  disappointed  and  almost 
penniless,  but  still  full  of  determination  and  cer- 
tain of  ultimate  success.  Again  he  besieged  Con- 
gress for  recognition  and  aid,  and  again  Congress 
ignored  and  ridiculed  him.  He  asked  for  an 
appropriation  of  thirty  thousand  dollars  for  the 
purpose  of  experimenting  over  a  long-distance  wire, 
and  the  House,  from  the  Speaker  to  the  clerk, 
simply  made  fun  of  the  suggestion,  although  there 
were  many  members  sufficiently  impressed  by  the 
earnestness  and  ability  of  this  painter  turned  peti- 
tioner to  feel  willing  to  try  the  experiment.  But 


314  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

the  cheap  wit  and  open  sarcasm  of  the  congress- 
men seemed  destined  to  defeat  the  bill,  and  the  dis- 
pirited inventor  prepared  to  leave  Washington  and 
his  hopes  of  success. 

There  came,  however,  a  sufficient  reaction  in  his 
favor  to  enable  the  House  to  pass  the  bill  by  a 
majority  of  six.  But  it  must  go  to  the  Senate  for 
approval,  and  when  the  last  hours  of  the  last  day  of 
the  session  arrived  there  were  one  hundred  and 
nineteen  bills  ahead  of  Morse's  petition,  and  no 
chance  for  recognition. 

To  fail  of  action  meant  the  death  of  the  bill,  the 
defeat  of  all  his  hopes,  and  Morse  sorrowfully  con- 
cluded that  all  his  labors  and  efforts  had  been  in 
vain. 

He  had  watched  all  day  from  the  visitors'  gallery 
in  the  Senate  for  some  sign  that  his  matter  might 
be  reached  before  adjournment,  but  none  appeared, 
and  as  the  night  wore  on  Morse  gave  up  in  despair 
and  went  to  his  lodging,  prepared  to  leave  for  New 
York,  in  defeat,  the  next  morning. 

The  morning  came,  but  Morse  did  not  go  to  New 
York,  for  as  he  entered  the  breakfast-room  a  young 
girl  greeted  him. 

"  Good  morning,  Professor  Morse,"  she  exclaimed. 
"Allow  me  to  congratulate  you." 

"  Congratulate  me  ? "  replied  the  disconsolate 
inventor.  "  Why  should  you  congratulate  me,  my 
dear?" 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  ?  "    said  the   surprised 


SAMUEL    FINLEY   BREESE    MORSE.     315 

girl  —  Miss  Lizzie  Ellsworth,  whose  father  was  the 
commissioner  of  patents.  "Don't  you  know 
your  bill  had  passed?" 

"  Impossible,  Lizzie  !  "  cried  the  professor.  "  I 
was  in  the  Senate  until  late  last  night  and  there 
was  no  chance  for  it." 

"But  there  was,  professor,"  persisted  the  girl, 
delighted  to  be  the  bearer  of  good  tidings.  "  Father 
stayed  until  the  session  closed  and  he  has  sent  me  to 
tell  you  that  your  bill  was  the  very  last  one  to  be 
acted  on,  and  was  passed  just  five  minutes  before 
Congress  adjourned.  I  'm  so  glad  to  be  the  first  one 
to  tell  you  !  And  —  oh,  yes  !  mother  says  you  must 
come  home  with  me  to  breakfast." 

"My  dear  child,"  said  the  delighted  inventor, 
clasping  both  her  hands,  "you  have  brought  me 
good  news  indeed.  I  '11  tell  you  what,  Lizzie  !  If 
it 's  so,  when  that  line  of  telegraph  is  opened  you 
shall  send  the  first  despatch." 

And  so  she  did.  For  when,  with  thirty  thousand 
dollars  at  his  disposal,  Professor  Morse  set  about 
building  his  experimental  line  of  telegraph  between 
Baltimore  and  Washington,  he  remembered  his 
promise  to  Lizzie  Ellsworth.  On  the  twenty-fourth 
of  May,  1844,  the  line  was  declared  completed  and 
Morse  prepared  for  his  final  and  public  test.  Strung 
from  pole  to  pole,  the  electric  wire  stretched  from 
Washington  to  Baltimore,  and  in  the  chamber  of 
the  Supreme  Court  in  the  Capitol  the  instrument 
was  set  up  from  which  the  line  ran  out. 


316  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

The  Ellsworth  girl  was  all  excitement. 

"  Do  tell  me  what  to  say,  mother,  if  Professor 
Morse  really  lets  me  send  the  message,"  she  said. 

And  her  mother,  who  knew  her  Bible  well,  sug- 
gested, "  Try  the  twenty-third  chapter  of  Numbers, 
child,  the  twenty-third  verse." 

The  girl  looked  up  the  passage,  and  standing 
beside  Professor  Morse  at  his  instrument  in  the 
Supreme  Court  chamber  Lizzie  Ellsworth  ticked 
out  on  the  key-board  the  solemn  but  jubilant  text, 
"  What  hath  God  wrought! " 

God  had  wrought  much  —  very  much,  for  science, 
for  civilization,  and  mankind  through  the  patience 
and  persistence  of  this  determined  and  undaunted 
inventor,  through  twelve  long  years  of  experiment- 
ing, disappointment,  and  discouragement.  But  he 
had  also  wrought  much  for  Samuel  Finley  Breese 
Morse.  For  that  final  triumph  brought  to  him 
fame  and  fortune. 

It  did  not  come  all  at  once,  however.  Even 
though  he  had  proved  the  value  of  his  invention, 
that  value  was  neither  appreciated  nor  acknowl- 
edged. A  further  appropriation  was  asked  to 
extend  the  line  to  Philadelphia  and  New  York, 
but  it  was  refused  as  impracticable.  It  was  even 
claimed  that  the  trial  test  was  valueless.  Morse 
offered  to  sell  the  line  and  the  rights  to  the  Govern- 
ment for  one  hundred  thousand  dollars,  claiming 
that  the  Government  should  own  and  control  the 
telegraph  just  as  it  did  the  post-office.  This,  too, 


SAMUEL    FINLEY   BREESE    MORSE.     817 

was  refused,  the  postmaster-general  declaring  that 
the  revenues  of  the  telegraph  could  never  be  made 
to  equal  its  expenditures !  Think  of  that  decision, 
to-day,  when  the  telegraph  lines  in  the  United 
States  have  made  great  fortunes  for  their  owners 
and  are  worth  vast  sums  of  money! 

Like  all  inventors,  Morse,  too,  was  forced  to  fight 
for  his  rights  in  the  patents  and  to  establish  his 
claim  as  the  real  inventor  of  the  electric  telegraph ; 
and  it  is  a  part  of  this  story  to  record  that  the  cap- 
tain and  passengers  of  the  packet  ship  "  Sully,"  to 
whom  Professor  Morse  had  exhibited  and  explained 
his  drawings,  were  able  by  their  testimony  to  prove 
his  rights  to  the  invention  which  they  had  first 
seen  in  his  sketch-book  in  the  cabin  of  the  "  Sully." 

Once  firmly  established  in  his  rights,  and  having 
proved  alike  the  worth  and  value  of  his  invention, 
recognition  and  honors  came  tq  the  successful  in- 
ventor. The  telegraph  was  adopted  and  used  all 
over  the  world,  and  so  great  a  factor  in  the  world's 
work  and  in  the  world's  progress  was  it  seen  to  be 
that  kings  and  countries  united  to  do  honor  to  the 
man  who  had  made  it  possible.  The  Sultan  of 
Turkey,  the  Kings  of  Prussia  and  Wurtemberg, 
the  Emperor  of  Austria,  and  the  Emperor  of  the 
French  honored  and  decorated  this  simple,  modest 
American.  Denmark  and  Spain,  Italy  and  Por- 
tugal followed  suit,  and  in  1858  the  representa- 
tives of  ten  European  sovereigns,  assembled  in 
special  convention  at  Paris,  voted  a  gift  of  eighty 


318  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

thousand  dollars  to  Samuel  Finley  Breese  Morse, 
the  inventor  of  the  electric  telegraph. 

He  was  the  first  to  suggest  a  marine  cable,  and, 
to  prove  its  feasibility,  experimented  in  laying  one 
between  the  Battery  and  Governor's  island  in  New 
York  harbor ;  he  was  interested  in  the  laying  of 
the  first  Atlantic  cable  in  1857  as  a  practical  proof 
of  the  claim  advanced  by  him  in  1843  that  "a  tel- 
egraphic communication  on  the  electro-magnetic 
plan  may  with  certainty  be  established  across  the 
Atlantic  ocean." 

"  I  am  confident,"  he  declared,  "  that  the  time 
will  come  when  this  project  will  be  realized." 

To-day  two  oceans  are  crossed  and  seamed  with 
cables,  and  the  news  of  the  world  is  read  every 
morning  in  every  civilized  home  :  Hong  Kong  and 
Calcutta,  London,  Paris,  and  New  York  exchange 
the  latest  intelligence  of  their  doings  and  happen- 
ings as  calmly  and  easily  as  if  they  were  neighbors 
exchanging  gossip  across  a  dividing  fence. 

Upon  one  of  the  green  lawns  of  beautiful  Cen- 
tral park  in  New  York  City  there  stands  a  bronze 
statue  of  Morse,  the  inventor.  On  a  bright  spring 
day  in  1871  that  statue,  reared  by  the  contri- 
butions of  the  army  of  busy  telegraph  operators 
throughout  the  United  States,  was  unveiled  to  the 
public,  and  Professor  Morse,  venerable  and  vener- 
ated, with  his  eighty  years  of  useful  life,  was 
present,  an  honored  guest. 

Again  a  young  girl  stood  at  the  operating  instru- 


SAMUEL    FINLEY   BREESE    MORSE.     319 

ment,  and,  with  her  fingers  on  the  key,  sent  a  mes- 
sage to  the  ten  thousand  telegraphic  instruments  of 
America,  all  of  which  had  been  connected  with  that 
one  in  Central  park.  And  thus  the  message  ran : 

"  Greeting  and  thanks  to  the  telegraph  fraternity 
throughout  the  world.  Glory  to  God  in  the  high- 
est, on  earth  peace,  good-will  to  men !  " 

Here  the  girl  paused,  and  a  tall,  erect,  venerable 
man,  with  flowing  white  beard,  and  kindly,  earnest 
face,  stood  by  her  side,  and,  touching  the  key,  com- 
pleted the  message  with  his  signature  :  "  S.  F.  B. 
MORSE." 

It  was  the  great  inventor's  greeting  and  message  to 
the  world  —  the  message  of  love  and  peace  which, 
all  through  his  life,  had  been  alike  his  nature  and 
his  desire.  And  as  he  stood  there,  dignified,  but 
gratified  by  this  world.  Appreciation  of  his  life- 
work,  what  wonder  if,  through  his  mind,  there  may 
not  have  passed  the  memory  of  that  letter  sent  from 
his  birthplace  in  Charles  to  wn  to  the  home  of  his 
grandfather  in  New  Jersey,  on  that  far-off  April 
day  of  1791 !  —  "As  to  the  child,  ...  he  may 
have  the  sagacity  of  a  Jewish  rabbi,  or  the  profund- 
ity of  a  Calvin,  or  the  sublimity  of  a  Homer,  for 
aught  I  know ;  but  time  will  bring  forth  all  things." 

Time,  indeed,  has  spoken  ;  for  that  child  has  been 
of  more  value  to  the  world  than  Gamaliel  or  Calvin 
or  Homer.  He  brought  the  world  in  touch.  He 
invented  the  telegraph  ! 


XXIII. 
HORACE    MANN,    OF    BOSTON,, 

CALLED    "THE    FATHER    OP    THE    COMMON 
SCHOOLS." 


Born  at  Franklin,  Massachusetts,  May  4, 1796. 
Died  at  Yellow  Springe,  Ohio,  August  2, 1859. 


u  I  wish  that  the  biography  of  Horace  Mann  might  be  known 
not  only  to  the  teachers  of  Normal  schools,  but  to  the  pupils 
and  to  our  innumerable  staff  of  primary  teachers.  I  wish  that  it 
might  be  circulated  among  the  professors  of  universities  and 
colleges.  ...  I  should  like  to  see  it  in  the  hands  of  every 
public  man."  —  Felix  Pecaut,  the  French  educator. 

ONE  day,  away  back  in  the  year  1785,  Dr.  Ben- 
jamin Franklin,  philosopher,  statesman,  and  philan- 
thropist, at  his  home  in  Philadelphia,  was  advised 
that  certain  compatriots  of  his  in  his  native  State  of 
Massachusetts  had  incorporated  a  town,  not  far 
from  Boston,  and  had  given  to  it,  in  his  honor,  the 
name  of  Franklin. 

As  if  this  were  not  memorial  enough,  they  de- 
cided to  raise,  as  a  sort  of  monument  to  the  distin- 
guished doctor,  a  steeple  on  their  meeting-house, 
and  they  forthwith  wrote  to  the  good  old  patriot 
that  they  would  build  such  a  steeple  if  he  for  whom 

320 


HORACE    MANN.  321 

their  town  was  named  would  hang  in  that  steeple 
a  bell. 

Now,  the  good  and  great  Doctor  Franklin  was, 
above  all  things,  eminently  practical.  A  church 
steeple,  he  said,  was  an  excellent  thing,  but  it  was 
not  really  a  necessity  to  a  meeting-house.  Neither 
was  a  bell.  The  money  that  the  bell  and  the 
steeple  would  cost  might  be  used  to  better  purpose, 
and  "  since  sense  is  preferable  to  sound,"  he  said, 
"  I  '11  make  your  town  a  gift  of  books  instead  of  a 
bell,  and  you  can  save  the  expense  of  a  steeple." 

The  doctor's  "  amendment "  was  accepted,  and 
instead  of  a  bell  the  town  of  Franklin  received  from 
the  godfather  of  their  town  a  little  library  to  the 
value  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars, 
selected  in  London  by  Franklin's  friend,  Doctor 
Price,  and  including  such  books  as  were  "most 
proper  to  inculcate  the  principles  of  sound  religion 
and  good  government." 

To  this  little  village  library  of  stilted  old  his- 
tories and  musty  theologies  there  came,  in  1806,  to 
browse  and  feed,  a  poor  farmer's  boy.  His  name 
was  Horace  Mann.  His  father  was  a  sickly,  con- 
sumptive man,  with  a  small  farm  and  intellectual 
tastes,  neither  of  which  he  was  able  to  satisfactorily 
cultivate.  But  he  instilled  into  his  boy  a  hatred  of 
evil,  of  ignorance,  and  intemperance,  and  though  he 
died  early,  taught  his  son  by  example  rather  than 
by  words  the  excellence  of  intelligence  and  the 
value  of  moral  worth. 


322  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

But  in  that  straitened  home  in  Franklin,  where 
on  the  fourth  of  May,  1796,  Horace  Mann  was 
born,  there  was  but  scant  opportunity  for  acquiring 
knowledge,  and  even  less  means  to  gratify  an  in- 
quiring mind.  So,  to  this  quiet,  thoughtful,  some- 
what morbid  boy  of  ten  the  discovery  of  the  meagre 
Franklin  library  was  as  a  good  mine  to  a  "  pros- 
pector." He  worked  it  until  the  vein  was  exhausted; 
but,  with  it,  he  built  into  his  very  nature  at  once  a 
love  for  books  and  reading,  a  desire  for  wider  knowl- 
edge, an  ardor  for  war  and  a  worship  of  heroes 
which,  though  he  afterwards  criticised  the  enthu- 
siasm, yet  made  of  him  a  hero  and  a  fighter  in  the 
cause  of  justice  and  enlightenment. 

"  Though  this  library  consisted  of  old  histories 
and  theologies,"  he  says,  "suited  perhaps  to  the 
taste  of  the  '  conscript  fathers '  of  the  town,  but 
miserably  adapted  to  the  '  prescript '  children,  yet 
I  wasted  my  youthful  ardor  upon  its  martial  pages, 
and  learned  to  glory  in  war,  which  both  reason  and 
conscience  have  since  taught  me  to  consider  almost 
universally  a  crime." 

But  the  spirit  and  intelligence  which  he  drew 
even  from  the  dry  husks  of  this  village  library  put 
into  the  lad  an  ambition  and  energy  greater  even 
than  his  rather  frail  system  could  bear ;  for  a  boy 
who  never  had  the  time  to  play,  who  even  earned  his 
school  books  by  braiding  straw,  and  who  was  taught 
that  fun  was  a  foolish  waste  of  time,  and  that  ima- 
gination was  "  a  snare  to  virtue,"  could  hardly  ex- 


HORACE    MANN.  323 

pect  to  be  the  hearty,  healthy,  mischief-making, 
wide-awake,  irrepressible  boy  which,  after  all,  is 
most  to  be  desired  for  man-building. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  these  restrictions  upon  youth  and 
health,  Horace  Mann  became  a  great  and  historic 
American  whose  influence  upon  his  century  was 
almost  incalculable.  For  out  of  his  "  hard  lines  " 
in  boyhood,  his  lack  of  opportunities,  his  miserable 
means  of  instruction,  his  teachers  ("  very  good  peo- 
ple, but  very  poor  teachers,"  he  tells  us),  his  limita- 
tions, and  his  struggles,  came  the  substantial  realiza- 
tion of  what  he  called  his  "  boyish  air  castles  "  —  to  do 
something  for  the  benefit  of  mankind.  For,  to-day, 
Horace  Mann  is  acknowledged  as  the  "  Father  of  the 
American  Common  Schools,"  and  millions  of  Ameri- 
can boys  and  girls  have  reason  to  cherish  his  memory 
and  bless  his  name  for  making  learning  easier  to 
them  and  education  practical. 

And  yet  this  man's  life-story  is  one  long  battle 
with  ill-health,  weakness,  discouragement,  and  dis- 
tress. Think  how  much  he  might  have  accom- 
plished had  his  boyhood  been  happy  and  healthy, 
or  his  manhood  hearty  and  vigorous.  For  so  strong 
was  his  desire  to  do  good,  and  to  put  into  execution 
his  plans  for  the  improvement  of  American  children, 
that  he  repeatedly  overtaxed  his  strength,  struggled 
with  exhaustion,  grew  really  ashamed  of  ill-health, 
and  absolutely  flung  away  his  own  life  for  the  sake 
of  others,  declaring  that  his  life  was  not  of  so  much 
consequence  as  the  work  in  hand  which  he  must 


324  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

and  would  accomplish.  Was  not  that  heroism  ?  and, 
in  that  spirit,  was  not  Horace  Mann  as  great  a  hero 
as  Alexander  Hamilton  when  he  flung  himself  over 
the  British  abatis  at  Yorktown,  as  Lieutenant  Gush- 
ing when  he  blew  up  the  "  Albemarle,"  or  as  the 
most  daring  of  the  gallant  "  Rough  Riders  "  who 
charged  up  the  hill  of  San  Juan  ?  As  such  a  hero, 
all  America  should  honor  him. 

The  simple  story  of  his  life  does  not  read  like  a 
romance  nor  appear  to  contain  even  the  germs  of 
heroism.  Born  in  Franklin,  in  1796,  reared  in  pov- 
erty, weakened  by  overwork,  he  yet  fitted  himself 
for  college ;  with  but  scanty  time  for  schooling, 
and  compelled  to  help  support  the  family  after 
his'  father's  death,  he  was  yet  enabled  to  work  his 
way  through  college,  and  to  graduate  from  Brown 
University  in  1819,  the  honor  man  of  his  class  and 
his  college.  Leaving  college,  he  studied  law,  became 
tutor  and  librarian  at  Brown,  and  finally,  in  1823, 
was  admitted  to  the  bar,  and  became  a  lawyer,  first 
in  Dedham  and  later,  in  1833,  in  Boston. 

He  proved  so  able  and  careful  a  lawyer  that  he 
was  rapidly  winning  success  and  fame  when,  in 
1827,  and  again  in  1833,  he  was  elected  to  the  Mass- 
achusetts Legislature,  where  he  took  no  interest 
in  partisan  politics,  but  evinced  a  deep  interest  in 
all  public  questions,  especially  in  those  touching 
civil,  political,  and  religious  liberty,  charitable, 
benevolent,  and  temperance  reforms,  and  particu- 
larly in  educational  matters ;  which,  as  he  felt 


HORACE    MANN.  325 

even  then,  were  in  dire  need  of  strengthening  and 
reform. 

His  efforts  in  behalf  of  education  were  untiring, 
and  when,  as  president  of  the  Senate  of  Massachu- 
setts, on  the  twentieth  of  April,  1837,  he  signed  the 
bill  authorizing  the  governor  to  appoint  "eight 
persons  who,  -together  with  the  governor  and  lieu- 
tenant-governor, ex  officiis,  shall  constitute  and  be 
denominated  the  Board  of  Education,"  he  did  an 
act  upon  which,  as  one  of  his  biographers  declares, 
"  his  whole  after-life  turned." 

For  this  Board  of  Education  was  in  time  duly 
appointed  and  organized  to  enter  upon  its  hercu- 
lean task  of  revising  and  reorganizing  the  common- 
school  system  of  Massachusetts,  and  Horace  Mann, 
greatly  to  his  surprise,  was  appointed  secretary  of 
the  Board. 

"  It  is  a  most  responsible  and  important  office," 
he  said ;  "  but  for  myself  I  never  had  a  sleeping  nor 
a  waking  dream  that  I  should  ever  think  of  myself 
or  be  thought  of  by  any  other  in  relation  to  that 
station." 

It  did,  indeed,  prove  a  most  responsible  and  im- 
portant office.  The  secretary  really  was  the  Board 
—  its  director,  its  moving  spirit,  its  servant,  and  its 
master  as  well,  giving  to  it,  for  twelve  years,  so 
much  of  himself,  his  energy,  his  vitality,  and  his 
force  that  not  only  were  the  ends  he  aimed  at  finally 
accomplished,  but  his  plans  were  so  far-reaching, 
his  methods  so  admirable,  and  his  influence  so 


326  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

great  that,  as  Doctor  Hinsdale  has  summed  it  up, 
"  his  influence  extended  to  every  State  that  shared 
in  the  early  educational  movement,  and  has  since 
reached  every  State  in  the  Union,  while,  even  in 
foreign  countries,  his  personality  has  been  distinctly 
recognized  by  European  educators." 

No  one  but  himself  appreciated  the  task  he  had 
undertaken  or  the  labor  it  entailed.  Most  people 
looked  upon  it  as  a  political  appointment  and 
asked  why  he  gave  up  his  law  practice,  and 
whether  it  was  a  question  of  salary.  That  was 
the  one  thing  that  angered  him ;  for  money  was 
the  last  thing  that  Horace  Mann  took  into  con- 
sideration. 

"  Salary  ! "  he  cried.  "  What  do  I  care  about  the 
salary  or  the  mere  honor  of  the  position?  My 
possible  usefulness  is  the  thing  that  I  consider. 
Do  not  such  questions  prove  that  the  community 
need  to  be  educated  until  they  shall  cease  to  look 
upon  that  as  the  greatest  good  which  is  really  the 
smallest,  and  to  find  the  greatest  good  in  what  they 
now  overlook  ?  " 

And  as  he  gave  up  the  practice  of  the  law,  in 
which  already  he  was  winning  name  and  success, 
he  was  again  as  great  a  hero  as  he  who  sacrifices 
his  personal  interests  to  command  or  follow  on  the 
field  of  war. 

"  The  interests  of  a  client  are  small  compared 
with  the  interests  of  the  next  generation,''  lui 
bravely  declared  as  he  turned  from  the  lawyer's 


HORACE    MANN.  327 

desk  to  the  secretary's  table.  "  Let  the  next  gen- 
eration, then,  be  my  client." 

He  entered  upon  his  work  boldly  and  bravely 
with  everything  against  him.  Indifference,  apa- 
thy, public  sentiment,  class  distinctions,  ignorance 
of  needs  and  methods,  political  influence,  favorit- 
ism, unskilled  instructors,  old-fogy  ways  —  these 
and  all  the  kindred  obstacles  to  advancement  and 
reform  he  must  meet  and  conquer,  and  this  he  must 
do  with  the  poor  health  and  enfeebled  body  that 
weighed  down  his  energy,  his  enthusiasm,  and  his 
pluck. 

But  he  rose  superior  to  all  obstacles. 

"  Oh,  that  I  could  live  a  hundred  years  ! "  he  often 
exclaimed,  as  from  all  parts  of  the  country  came 
letters  asking  for  his  suggestion,  assistance,  or  ad- 
vice ;  and  to  his  sister  he  wrote  as  he  prepared  to 
enter  upon  his  new  duties :  "  If  I  can  discover  by 
what  appliance  of  means  a  non-thinking,  non- 
reflecting,  non-speaking  child  can  most  surely  be 
trained  into  a  noble  citizen  ready  to  contend  for  the 
right  and  to  die  for  the  right  —  if  I  can  only  ob- 
tain and  diffuse  throughout  this  State  a  few  good 
ideas  on  these  and  similar  objects,  may  I  not  flatter 
myself  that  my  ministry  has  not  been  wholly  in 
vain?" 

Those  "  few  good  ideas  "  were  in  time  diffused 
not  only  throughout  the  State  of  Massachusetts, 
but  throughout  the  world ;  for  the  twelve  annual 
reports  made  by  Horace  Mann,  as  secretary  of  the 


HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

Massachusetts  State  Board  of  Education,  awakened 
the  thinking  world  to  the  necessity  of  better  meth- 
ods in  education,  to  the  needs  of  the  children,  and 
the  demands  of  the  State ;  they  have  been  termed 
by  critics  "a  classic  on  the  subject  of  education," 
and  as  Mr.  Hinsdale  declares,  "They  presented 
Horace  Mann  to  the  world  not  simply  as  an  educa- 
tor or  a  pedagogist,  but  as  '  an  educational  states- 
man.' " 

"The  twelve  reports,"  says  Mr.  Hinsdale,  "are 
among  the  best  existing  expositions,  if,  indeed, 
they  are  not  the  very  best,  of  the  practical  benefits 
of  a  common-school  education  both  to  the  in- 
dividual and  the  State.  The  student  or  educa- 
tor, the  journalist  or  politician,  who  is  seeking  the 
best  arguments  in  favor  of  popular  education  will 
find  them  here." 

Through  those  twelve  years  of  his  secretaryship 
Horace  Mann  worked  untiringly  and  accomplished 
wonders  ;  but  he  prepared  the  way  for  even  greater 
wonders  ;  for  he  laid  the  firm  foundations  of  the  pres- 
ent beneficent  common-school  system  of  America. 
He  taught  the  American  people  to  think  and  act 
on  the  subject  of  the  better  education  of  the  young 
from  primary  to  Normal  schools ;  indeed,  he  advo- 
cated, introduced,  and  instituted  the  professional 
preparatory  institutions  for  teachers  which  we  call 
"  Normal "  schools.  He  undertook  to  do  a  work 
that  should  be  educational  not  only  to  the  children 
and  youth  of  the  State,  but  also  to  the  people  of 


HORACE    MANN,  329 

the  State ;  he  did  this  by  speaking,  by  writing,  by 
laboring,  counting  no  sacrifice  too  great,  no  work 
too  menial,  no  strain  too  sharp,  if  but  his  purpose 
were  attained.  For  fifteen  hours  and  more  a  day 
he  worked  uncomplainingly,  travelling  and  talking, 
holding  teachers'  conventions,  giving  lectures  on 
methods  and  plans  of  instruction,  and  doing  an 
enormous  amount  of  letter-writing.  He  started 
an  educational  magazine,  awakened  the  indiffer- 
ent, aroused  the  public  spirited,  prepared  pam- 
phlets, and  wrote  his  famous  reports,  and  literally 
"  spent  himself  "  in  the  service  of  education. 

Indifference  and  lack  of  interest  were  his  main 
obstacles,  but  nothing  daunted  him.  In  one  town, 
where  a  convention  was  to  be  held,  no  preparations 
had  been  made,  and  when  he  and  his  stanch  sup- 
porter the  governor  arrived  at  the  untidy  school- 
house  and  found  it  locked  and  unready  he  hunted 
up  the  key,  and  made  the  disorderly  building  pre- 
sentable ;  so  that  one  early  arrival,  coming  in,  was 
astonished  to  find  the  governor  of  Massachusetts 
and  the  secretary  of  the  State  Board  of  Education 
with  brooms  and  dust  cloths  in  their  hands,  actu- 
ally cleaning  out  and  "redding  up"  the  school- 
room for  the  session  of  the  convention. 

Enthusiasm  always  inspires,  and,  little  by  little, 
his  untiring  work  bore  fruit.  For  when,  after 
twelve  years  of  ceaseless  labor,  through  disap- 
pointments, discouragements,  privations,  and  actual 
poverty,  he  was  at  last  forced  to  retire  from  the 


330  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

field,  broken  in  health  and  strength,  but  undis- 
mayed and  undaunted  in  spirit,  he  knew  that  he 
had  succeeded,  and  that  the  public-school  system 
of  Massachusetts  had  by  his  efforts  been  put  upon 
the  high  road  to  practical  and  positive  success. 

When  that  old  patriot  John  Quincy  Adams 
fell  in  death  upon  the  floor  of  Congress,  where  he 
had  labored  so  long  and  valiantly  for  freedom  of 
speech  and  for  justice  to  all,  Horace  Mann  was 
elected  his  successor,  and  for  seven  years  he 
served  Massachusetts  as  her  representative  in  Con- 
gress, waging  there  just  such  an  untiring  fight 
against  slavery  as  he  had,  in  his  own  State,  waged 
against  ignorance  and  indifference.  Even  in  Con- 
gress he  did  not  relax  his  efforts  in  behalf  of 
education,  and  though  the  great  struggle  for  man- 
hood freedom,  fast  developing  into  the  inevitable 
conflict  that  came  at  last  with  the  election  of 
Abraham  Lincoln,  absorbed  his  full  attention,  he 
was  yet  able  to  set  on  foot  a  national  movement 
which,  in  time,  resulted  in  the  establishment  of 
that  Bureau  of  Education  which  is  to-day  so  prom- 
inent a  department  of  the  National  Government. 

In  1852  Horace  Mann  was  nominated  for  gov- 
ernor of  Massachusetts.  But  the  forces  of  igno- 
rance and  conservatism,  even  in  the  old  Bay  State 
which  he  had  done  so  much  to  redeem  and  uplift, 
were  yet  too  strong  to  be  overcome  in  one  political 
struggle,  and  he  was  not  elected,  —  defeated,  so  he 
declared,  "  by  rum  and  pro-slavery." 


HORACE    MANN.  331 

But  the  influence  of  his  life-work  had  gone 
abroad  into  other  parts  of  the  Republic,  and  when, 
in  1853,  certain  educational  forces  in  the  State  of 
Ohio  combined  to  found  and  build  up  a  non-secta- 
rian, co-educative  university,  to  be  known  as 
Antioch  College,  and  desired  a  head  for  their  insti- 
tution, they  invited  Horace  Mann  to  the  presi- 
dency. The  heroic  leader  felt  that  a  new  duty 
was  laid  upon  him,  and,  in  the  same  spirit  of  self- 
devotion,  accepting  it,  bade  farewell  to  Massa- 
chusetts and  went  to  his  new  labors  —  and  his 
death. 

Mann,  who  had  resigned  his  seat  in  Congress  for 
this  purpose,  removed  at  once  to  Ohio,  and  in  Sep- 
tember, 1853,  assumed  his  chair  as  president  of 
Antioch  College,  pledged,  as  he  declared,  to  "  two 
great  objects  which  can  never  be  rightly  separated 
from  each  other,  —  the  honor  of  God  and  the  ser- 
vice of  man." 

It  was  laborious  and  uphill  work,  as  all  new  en- 
terprises that  claim  to  be  pioneers  in  fresh  fields  are 
apt  to  be.  The  college  was  unendowed,  and  was 
not  self-supporting.  It  was,  indeed,  heavily  in 
debt  from  the  start,  and  possessed  few  of  the  at- 
tractions necessary  to  induce  young  people  to  ac- 
cept its  instruction.  The  public  mind  was  not 
yet  ready,  either  for  co-education  or  unsectari- 
anism;  misrepresentation,  interference,  misunder- 
standing, and  lack  of  support  combined  to  weaken 
and  retard  it,  and  Mann  found  himself  obliged  to 


332  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

be   president,   instructor,    preacher,   and  financial 
agent  all  in  one. 

Bnt  against  all  these  obstacles  Horace  Mann 
could  have  battled  manfully,  and,  in  time,  success- 
fully, had  his  health  been  good.  Instead,  it  was 
very  bad.  The  strain  of  overwork  through  long 
years  of  endeavor  had  undermined  a  weakened 
and  failing  constitution,  and,  unable  to  keep  up  the 
losing  battle  between  desire  and  disease,  he  finally 
succumbed  to  the  destroyer,  and  on  the  second  of 
August,  1859,  died  at  the  college  for  which  he  had 
literally  sacrificed  health  and  life. 

It  reads  almost  like  defeat.  It  seems  a  sad  and 
tragic  ending  to  a  life  of  such  unselfish  and  cease- 
less endeavor.  But  even  defeat  is  sometimes  vic- 
tory. The  last  words  of  Horace  Mann  to  his  de- 
voted and  beloved  students  at  Antioch  were :  "  Be 
ashamed  to  die  until  you  have  won  some  victory 
for  humanity."  That  was  the  text  of  his  life,  and, 
to-day,  students  and  teachers,  educators  and  spe- 
cialists, philanthropists  and  statesmen,  reformers, 
leaders,  patriots,  and  people,  recognize  that  to 
Horace*  Mann  was  due  that  uplift  towards  a 
nobler  and  higher  education,  and  therefore  towards 
a  broader  and  more  practical  Americanism,  that  has 
placed  the  Republic  in  the  forefront  of  human  in- 
telligence and  the  leadership  of  mind  and  heart 
and  brain. 

"  We  shall  mourn  Horace  Mann,"  said  Charles 
Sumner.  "  He  has  done  much ;  but  I  wish  he 


HORACE    MANN.  333 

had  lived  to  enjoy  the  fruit  of  his  noble  toils.  He 
never  should  have  left  Massachusetts.  His  last 
years  would  have  been  happier  and  more  influen- 
tial had  he  stayed  at  home.  His  portrait  ought  to 
be  in  every  public  school  in  the  State,  and  his 
statue  in  the  State  House." 

From  a  personal  standpoint  the  regret  of  Sum- 
ner  may  have  been  true  ;  for  Horace  Mann  died 
homesick.  But  the  influence  even  of  his  short 
stay  in  the  West  was  great.  During  those  six 
years  he  became  a  powerful  factor  in  the  educa- 
tional movement  of  that  growing  section,  and,  alike 
on  the  lecture  platform  and  in  educational  meet- 
ings, he  worked,  outside  his  own  college  field,  to 
push  forward  the  intellectual  developments  of  the 
States  that  are  to-day  centres  of  educational 
strength  and  intellectual  progress. 

He,  too,  recognized  the  great  possibilities  of  the 
West  —  the  valleys  of  the  Ohio  and  the  Mississippi. 
"  Wherever  the  capital  of  the  United  States  may 
be,"  he  said  prophetically,  in  1853,  "this  valley 
will  be  its  seat  of  empire.  No  other  valley  —  the 
Danube,  the  Ganges,  the  Nile,  or  the  Amazon — 
is  ever  to  exert  so  formative  an  influence  as  this 
upon  the  destinies  of  men ;  and  therefore  in  civil 
polity,  in  ethics,  in  studying  and  obeying  the  laws 
of  God,  it  must  ascend  to  the  contemplation  of  a 
future  and  enduring  reign  of  beneficence  and 
peace.  .  .  .  But  if  a  poor  country  needs  edu- 
cation a  rich  country  needs  it  none  the  less,  be- 


334  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

cause  it  is  the  only  thing  which  can  chasten  the 
proud  passions  of  man  into  humility,  or  make  any 
other  gift  of  God  a  blessing." 

On  the  fourth  of  July,  1865,  there  was  unveiled 
in  the  grounds  in  front  of  the  famous  State  House 
on  Beacon  hill,  in  Boston,  a  bronze  statue  of  the 
great  educator,  erected  by  his  friends  and  admirers 
and  the  school  children  of  Massachusetts  —  "  My 
eighty  thousand  children,"  he  loved  to  call  them ; 
to-day  millions  of  American  school  children  all 
over  the  land  he  loved  so  well  enjoy  the  fruit  of 
his  labors,  his  sacrifices,  and  his  successes,  and  the 
civilized  world  has  profited  by  the  unselfish  efforts  of 
Horace  Mann,  teacher,  educator,  statesman,  and' 
patriot,  "  the  Father  of  the  Common  Schools  of 
America." 


XXIV. 

THE   STORY   OF   ABRAHAM   LINCOLN, 
OF   SPRINGFIELD, 

CALLED  "  THE   EMANCIPATOR  "    AND    "  THE  GREAT 
PRESIDENT." 


Born  on  Nolin's  Creek,  Kentucky,  February  12, 1809. 
Died  at  Washington,  April  15,  1865. 


"  Standing  like  a  tower, 
Our  children  shall  behold  his  fame, 
The  kindly,  earnest,  brave,  foreseeing  man 

Sagacious,  patient,  dreading  praise,  not  blame, 
New  breath  of  our  new  soil,  the  first  American." 

James  Russell  Lowell. 

IT  had  been  an  inglorious  and  spiritless  cam- 
paign. The  boys  who,  under  the  spur  of  excite- 
ment and  for  the  novelty  of  hunting  Indians,  had 
enlisted  for  a  "  thirty  days'  picnic  "  had  found  no 
Indians  to  fight ;  while  forced  marches,  unexplained 
delays,  and  the  privations  of  camp  had  made  the 
short  campaign  against  Black  Hawk  and  his  war- 
riors scarcely  the  picnic  they  had  anticipated. 

The  Sangamon  company  in  Colonel  Thompson's 
regiment  of  Illinois  volunteers  was  no  exception  to 
the  rule ;  they  had  proved  themselves  unruly, 
335 


336  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

fault-finding,  and  careless  of  camp  duties,  and  as 
soon  as  their  short  term  of  enlistment  was  over 
they  became  almost  mutinous  in  their  demands  to 
be  mustered  out  and  be  sent  home  again. 

Suddenly  to  these  imperfect  patriots,  at  their 
camp  in  northern  Illinois,  came  the  news  of  Still- 
man's  massacre,  and  the  sudden  foray  of  Black 
Hawk  and  his  hostile  Sacs. 

The  brave  volunteers  shivered  in  their  shoes,  for 
they  had  not  reckoned  on  the  Indians  taking  the 
initiative.  Their  dream  of  glory  had  been  to 
chase  the  fleeing  Indian  across  the  prairie,  picking 
off  squaw  and  warrior  as  they  ran,  and  bringing 
home  trophies  instead  of  wounds,  with  which  to 
delight  the  "  folks  at  the  store  "  and  the  cross- 
roads. 

There  was,  however,  small  fear  that  the  "  two 
thousand  bloodthirsty  redskins  "  of  Black  Hawk's 
"  army  "  —  for  that  was  the  strength  reported  by 
rumor  and  fright  —  would  strike  the  camp  of  the 
Sangamon  company,  and  their  distance  from  the 
real  scene  of  war  gradually  increased  their  valor 
gained  by  distance,  as  it  emphasized  their  threats  of 
what  they  would  do  to  "  them  pesky  red  varmints  " 
if  once  they  had  them  in  their  power. 

Into  the  camp  of  the  Sangamon  company,  thus 
exercised  over  their  spasmodic  valor,  there  wan- 
dered one  day  a  poor,  forlorn,  solitary,  hungry,  and 
helpless 'old  Indian  seeking  chanty. 

"  Injun  white  man's  friend,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN.  337 

extended  his  hand  in  supplication.  "  See  —  paper 
that  talks  ;  from  big  white  war-chief,"  and  he  drew 
from  his  belt  a  letter,  which  he  offered  as  evidence 
of  friendship. 

But  the  soldiers  into  whose  presence  he  had 
thrust  himself  had  no  faith  in  such  assurances; 
they  had  been  looking  for  Indians ;  here  was  one 
at  last  —  no  doubt  a  spy  —  perhaps  Black  Hawk 
himself. 

They  swooped  down  upon  the  suspected  and 
defenceless  redskin. 

"  String  him  up !  Scalp  him !  Kill  him ! "  they 
cried.  He  's  a  sure  enough  Injun.  He  's  what 
we  're  after.  Rush  him  along,  we  '11  settle  him  !  " 

In  vain  the  poor  old  red  man  fluttered  the  letter 
in  the  faces  of  his  inhospitable  captors. 

"  Me  good  Injun,"  he  reiterated  ;  "  white  chief 
say  so.  See  'um  talking  paper." 

"  Get  out ;  can't  play  that  forgery  on  us.  Shoot 
him  !  Shoot  him !  "  the  soldiers  shouted,  and,  with 
that,  they  hustled  the  old  Indian  about  so  roughly 
and  made  so  much  noise  over  their  prize  that  they 
aroused  their  captain,  who  came  springing  from  his 
tent. 

"  What 's  all  this  row  about  ?  "  he  demanded. 

He  was  a  tall,  raw-boned  specimen  of  the  young 
Western  borderer,  long-armed,  long-legged,  awk- 
ward, and  most  unsoldierly  looking. 

But  there  was  determination  in  his  eyes.  He 
had  gained  many  lessons  in  discipline  from  his 


338  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

hard  experiences  trying  to  discipline  this  unruly 
Sangaraon  company. 

At  once  his  glance  fell  upon  the  badgered  In- 
dian, and,  dashing  in  among  his  men,  he  scattered 
them  to  right  and  left  and  placed  a  protecting  hand 
upon  the  red  fugitive's  shoulder. 

"  Stand  back,  all  of  you !  "  he  shouted.  "  Are  n't 
you  ashamed  of  yourselves  —  all  of  you  piling  on 
one  poor  old  redskin?  What  are  you  thinking 
of?  Would  you  kill  an  unprotected  man?" 

"  A  spy !  He  's  a  spy  !  "  cried  the  discomfited 
soldiers,  gathering  again  about  their  prey.  The 
poor  old  Indian  read  his  fate  in  their  eyes.  He 
crouched  low  at  the  captain's  feet,  recognizing  in 
him  his  only  protector. 

"  Fall  back,  men  ;  fall  back !  "  the  captain  com- 
manded. "  Let  the  Injun  go.  He  has  n't  done 
anything  to  you.  He  can't  hurt  you." 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of  ?  "  demanded  one  of 
the  ringleaders,  brandishing  his  rifle.  "  Let  us 
have  him.  We  're  not  afraid,  even  if  you  are  a 
coward." 

The  tall  young  captain  faced  his  accuser  and 
proceeded  to  roll  up  his  sleeves  deliberately  and 
with  unmistakable  meaning. 

"  Who  says  I  'm  a  coward  ?  "  he  demanded. 

The  implied  challenge  received  no  response. 
The  Sangamon  boys  knew  the  length  and  strength 
of  those  brawny  arms. 

"  Get   out,  cap'n ;  that 's   not  fair,"   they  said. 


'TAKE  IT  OUT  OF  ME,  IF  YOU  CAN,  BUT  YOU  SHAN'T  TOUCH  THIS  INJUN." 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN.  339 

"  You  're  bigger  'n  we  are,  and  heavier.  You  don't 
give  us  a  show." 

"  I  '11  give  you  all  the  show  you  want,  boys,"  said 
the  captain.  "  More  'n  you  '11  give  this  Injun.  I  '11 
tell  you  what :  I  '11  fight  you  all,  one  after  the 
other,  just  as  you  come.  Take  it  out  of  me,  if  you 
can,  but  you  shan't  touch  this  Injun.  When  a 
man  comes  to  me  for  help  he 's  going  to  get  it,  if  I 
have  to  lick  all  Sangamon  county." 

There  was  no  acceptance  of  that  challenge,  either. 
The  Indian,  who  proved  to  be  one  of  the  friendly 
Indians  from  General  Cass's  Division,  was  given  over 
to  the  captain  ;  the  men  dispersed  ;  the  trouble  was 
over  ;  no  man  in  that  camp,  or  all  the  camps  together, 
had  any  desire  to  try  a  wrestle  with  Capt.  Abraham 
Lincoln.  For  the  captain  who  protected  a  fugitive 
Indian  from  the  ferocity  of  that  unruly  set  of  raw 
recruits  was  Abraham  Lincoln,  of  Illinois. 

Thus  the  first  introduction  to  Abraham  Lincoln 
which  I  shall  give  you  is  as  the  protector  of  the 
persecuted  and  unfortunate,  even  at  the  risk  of  his 
life  ;  the  last  view  we  have  of  Abraham  Lincoln  is 
as  he  sacrifices  his  life  in  behalf  of  those  whom  he 
protected,  defended,  and  enfranchised. 

Indeed,  sympathy  and  regard  for  all  in  trouble 
were  among  the  chief  characteristics  of  Abraham 
Lincoln.  He  would  go  out  of  his  way  to  relieve 
the  distress  of  bird  or  beast,  while  many  an  erring 
man  and  many  a  careless  soldier  have  had  cause  to 
bless  forever  the  kind  heart  of  Abraham  Lincoln, 


340  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

which  went  out  to  them  in  tenderness,  protection, 
and  help  in  time  of  stress.  Helpfulness  was  the 
mainspring  and  stay  of  that  remarkable  life. 

And  a  remarkable  life  it  was.  Few  have  been 
more  remarkable  in  events  and  none  more  glorious 
in  results  than  was  that  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  Born 
in  the  direst  poverty,  in  a  mean  little  log  cabin  on 
the  banks  of  Nolin's  creek,  near  to  the  present  town 
of  Hodgensville,  about  fifty  miles  south  of  Louis- 
ville, in  Kentucky,  Abraham  Lincoln's  childhood 
was  as  devoid  of  all  the  things  that  make  a  boy's 
life  attractive  as  it  is  possible  to  imagine.  His 
father  was  shiftless  and  poor;  his  mother  was  a 
drudge  who  died  from  overwork,  old  before  her 
time  ;  his  home  was  a  log  hut  on  a  scrubby  hillside 
farm,  or  the  yet  worse  half-faced  camp  on  an  Indi- 
ana prairie.  He  learned  his  letters  any  way  he 
could ;  he  never  went  to  school  more  than  a  year  in 
all  the  days  of  his  life  ;  he  was  a  ragged,  forlorn, 
neglected  little  son  of  the  soil ;  but  he  had  in  him 
the  instincts  of  a  scholar,  the  habits  of  a  gentle- 
man, and  the  yearnings  of  honorable  ambition. 
He  made  himself  actually  out  of  nothing,  and  the 
boy  who  would  do  a  day's  work  to  borrow  a  book, 
who  did  his  studying  and  his  reading  by  the  flick- 
ering firelight  of  the  earthen  hearth ;  who  faced 
and  conquered  all  the  obstacles  of  birth,  upbring- 
ing, surroundings,  personal  appearance,  ignorance, 
and  lack  of  opportunity,  actually  made  himself  the 
master  of  his  circumstances,  and  rose  to  an  emi- 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN.  341 

nence  greater  than  that  attained  by  any  other  man 
of  the  century. 

His  story  is  a  remarkable  one,  and  yet  it  is  neither 
startling  in  the  amount  of  its  successes  nor  varied 
in  its  dramatic  details.  Beginning  life  away  down 
in  the .  world,  he  ended  it  away  up.  Other  men 
have  done  this,  but  not  as  he  did  it.  He  served  a 
hard  apprenticeship  to  experience,  and  came  out  at 
the  head  of  his  craft  —  as  nearly  perfect  a  man  as 
it  is  given  to  man  to  be  perfect.  Chore-boy,  farm- 
hand, flatboat-man,  rail-splitter,  clerk,  storekeeper, 
soldier,  inventor,  surveyor,  postmaster,  Congress- 
man, country  lawyer,  politician,  statesman,  presi- 
dent, hero,  martyr,  saint,  —  these  are  the  steps  in 
the  slow  but  steady  progress  made  by  Abraham 
Lincoln.  He  was  born  in  1809 ;  but  it  was  1859 
before  he  became  famous,  and  all  the  wonderful 
happenings  of  his  wonderful  record  were  crowded 
into  six  years  of  heart-breaking  endeavor  that  were 
suddenly  closed  by  a  violent  death.  The  most  con- 
servative of  men,  he  became  the  greatest  of  reform- 
ers; the  most  unassuming  of  workers,  he  became 
the  noblest  of  patriots  ;  awkward  in  figure  and  unat- 
tractive in  face  and  appearance,  his  face  has  become 
the  most  familiar  and  most  glorified  in  the  whole 
gallery  of  great  Americans,  while  the  fame  of  the 
humble  rail-splitter  has  overshadowed  that  of  all  the 
kings  and  princes  that  ever  ruled  or  made  brilliant 
the  world  in  which  they  lived.  His  words  have 
become  a  part  of  the  proverbs  and  literature  of  the 


342  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

nation ;  his  deeds  are  among  the  noblest  heritage  of 
the  ages. 

His  story  is  a  twice-told  tale.  But  who  is  there 
that  tires  of  its  retelling?  Of  few  other  Ameri- 
cans are  so  many  stories  told,  and  not  one  but  dis- 
plays some  trait  or  characteristic  that  stamps  him 
as  exceptional  and  may  be  taken  as  a  guide  or 
inspiration  for  those  who  study  his  completed  story. 
Think  of  what  this  completed  story  is  !  A  poor  boy 
born  amid  mean  and  disheartening  surroundings; 
brought  up  on  a  rough  frontier  among  rough 
people ;  uncouth  and  awkward  in  appearance  ;  fail- 
ing many  times  in  his  attempt  to  gain  a  footing  in 
the  world,  but  never  giving  in ;  educating  himself 
in  spite  of  difficulties  and  discouragements  ;  making 
himself  respected  and  popular  among  the  people, 
he  became  in  time  the  chosen  representative  of 
those  people  in  their  home  government,  developed 
himself  into  their  champion  and  the  champion  of  a 
great  reform,  and,  at  last,  in  the  hour  of  uncer- 
tainty and  danger,  was  selected  by  the  people  of  the 
whole  country  to  become  the  head  of  the  nation 
and  the  leader  of  that  nation  in  its  hour  of  stress 
and  peril.  And  in  that  awful  hour  he  was  never 
found  wanting.  Upon  his  life  through  four  terri- 
ble years  of  war  hung  the  destinies  of  a  nation  and 
the  redemption  of  a  race.  Through  them  all  he 
displayed  an  ability  for  leadership  that  was  only 
excelled  by  his  marvellous  patience,  and  a  masterly 
grasp  of  public  affairs  that  was  only  equalled  by 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN.  343 

his  knowledge  of  men  and  his  wisdom  in  hand- 
ling them. 

He  became  known  to  the  American  people 
through  a  failure.  In  the  year  1858  he  was 
"stumping"  the  State  of  Illinois  with  his  chief 
rival,  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  for  the  nomination  as 
senator  of  the  United  States  from  Illinois.,  The 
issue  was  the  extension  of  slavery  to  the  Territories 
—  the  thing  for  which  Calhoun  labored  so  hero- 
ically as  the  eloquent  champion  of  a  wrong  cause. 

On  the  seventeenth  of  June  in  that  year  of  1858 
he  made  a  remarkable  speech  in  which  he  boldly  de- 
clared that  if  America  were  to  be  really  the  land  of 
the  free  it  must  cast  off  the  stain  of  human  slavery. 

"  A  house  divided  against  itself  cannot  stand," 
he  declared.  "  I  believe  that  this  Government  can- 
not endure  half  slave  and  half  free.  I  do  not 
expect  the  Union  to  be  dissolved.  I  do  not  expect 
the  house  to  fall ;  but  I  do  expect  it  will  cease  to 
be  divided.  It  will  become  all  one  thing  or  all  the 
other.  Either  the  opponents  of  slavery  will  arrest 
the  farther  spread  of  it  and  place  it  where  the 
public  mind  shall  rest  in  the  belief  that  it  is  in  the 
course  of  ultimate  extinction,  or  the  advocates  of  it 
will  push  it  forward  till  it  shall  become  alike  law- 
ful in  all  the  States  —  old  as  well  as  new,  North  as 
well  as  South." 

It  was  a  great  speech.  It  put  the  plain  truth 
before  the  people.  But  the  men  who  wished  Lin- 
coln to  be  elected  senator  were  greatly  disturbed. 


344  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

"  You  have  made  a  mistake,"  they  told  him. 
"  You  should  not  put  things  that  way ;  you  have 
ruined  all  your  chances ;  you  have  killed  yourself 
politically." 

One  of  his  friends  came  to  him  in  much  distress, 
as  Lincoln  sat  at  his  desk  after  the  day  was  over. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  you  made  that  speech,"  he  said. 
"  I  wish  it  were  wiped  out  of  existence.  How  do 
you  feel  now  ?  Don't  you  wish  you  had  not  said 
so  much  ?  " 

Lincoln  laid  down  his  pen,  lifted  his  spectacles, 
and  looked  at  his  friend,  with  a  smile  on  his  homely 
face  ;  but  it  was  a  sober  smile  —  the  smile  of  con- 
fidence and  assurance. 

"If  I  had  to  draw  my  pen  across  my  whole  life," 
he  said,  "and  erase  it  from  existence,  and  I  had 
one  poor  little  gift  or  choice  left  as  to  what  I 
should  save  from  the  wreck,  I  would  choose  that 
one  speech  and  leave  it  to  the  world  unerased." 

There  was  a  man  who  had  the  courage  of  his 
convictions  and  who,  when  duty  demanded,  could 
speak  the  truth  bravely,  whatever  the  conse- 
quence ! 

He  lost  the  election.  Judge  Douglas  went  to 
Washington  as  senator,  and  Abraham  Lincoln  re- 
turned to  his  work  as  a  country  lawyer. 

But  that  speech  roused  the  land;  it  went  out  to 
all  the  world ;  it  set  men  to  thinking  as  they  had 
never  thought  before,  even  when  Calhoun  had 
spoken  his  solemn  warning ;  it  sent  a  death-shot 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN.,  345 

straight  to  the  heart  of  slavery ;  it  made  Abraham 
Lincoln  president  of  the  United  States. 

That  is  to  say,  it  was  the  first  step  towards  that 
result ;  for  it  was  the  first  in  a  series  of  famous 
speeches  in  a  great  debate  which  drew  the  atten- 
tion of  the  North  to  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  made 
them  say  that  the  man  who  could  thus  put  things 
in  the  proper  light  and  could  see  the  right  so  clearly 
must  be  a  man  of  ability  and  power. 

So  the  man  who  led  the  strength  of  the  people, 
and  their  consciences,  too,  into  such  practical  and 
progressive  paths  was  made  the  standard-bearer  of 
the  party  of  freedom,  and  on  the  sixteenth  of  May, 
1860,  in  the  city  of  Chicago,  Abraham  Lincoln  was 
nominated  for  president. 

In  that  same  city  of  Chicago,  to-day,  in  a  great 
and  beautiful  park  along  the  shores  of  a  mighty 
fresh-water  sea,  there  rises  a  splendid  bronze  statue 
of  the  man  who  was  there  nominated  for  the  presi- 
dency. It  is  the  most  impressive  statue  in  all 
America  —  St.  Gaudens'  statue  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln. And  at  the  feet  of  the  splendid  statue  I  saw 
playing,  one  day,  two  negro  children,  contented, 
happy,  and  free  because  of  the  great  act  that  man 
did  in  their  behalf  when  he  was  president  of  the 
United  States  of  America. 

It  was  in  the  November  election  of  1860  that  the 
rail-splitter  won  the  presidency.  On  the  fourth  of 
March,  1861,  he  was  inaugurated  in  Washington, 
and,  standing  before  the  splendid  east  front  of  the 


346  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

Capitol,  then  incomplete,  he  made  that  honest, 
earnest  plea  for  peace  which  so  thrilled  and  inspired 
the  loyal  North. 

"  I  am  loth  to  close,"  he  said.  "  We  are  not 
enemies,  but  friends.  We  must  not  be  enemies. 
Though  passion  may  have  strained,  it  must  riot 
break  our  bond  of  affection.  The  mystic  chords 
of  memory,  stretching  from  every  battlefield  and 
patriot  grave  to  every  living  heart  and  hearthstone 
all  over  the  broad  land,  will  yet  swell  the  chorus 
of  the  Union,  when  again  touched,  as  surely  they 
will  be,  by  the  better  angels  of  our  nature." 

But  his  appeal  was  to  deaf  ears  and  hardened 
hearts.  The  day  that  Calhoun  prophesied  had  ar- 
rived. The  South  and  North  were  at  odds  and" 
civil  war  was  in  the  land. 

But  the  North  had  a  great  man  at  the  helm. 
Courageous,  patient,  determined,  tactful,  sympa- 
thetic, watchful,  and  wise  Abraham  Lincoln  stood 
through  those  four  years  of  civil  war,  erect  and 
vigilant,  until  men  grew  to  know  and  to  trust  him, 
recognizing  that  the  great  President  knew  more 
than  his  ministers,  more  than  his  generals,  more 
than  friend  or  foe  of  the  Union ;  he  alone  laid  the 
course  to  victory,  and  to  him  alone  the  Republic 
came  at  last  to  look  for  safety,  security,  guidance, 
and  ultimate  triumph.  Gradually  Congress  gave 
him  unlimited  powers  ;  the  people  learned  to  de- 
pend upon  him  for  help  in  dark  days  and  wisdom  in 
bright  ones  ;  and  whenever  they  grew  impatient,  or 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN.  347 

fearful,  or  despondent,  they  looked  at  that  tall,  sad- 
faced,  quiet,  patient,  determined,  noble  figure  of 
their  president,  and  felt  their  faith  grow  strong 
and  their  fears  subside. 

At  last,  when  the  war  had  been  raging  for  two 
years,  he  saw  that  the  time  had  come  for  the  action 
he  had  kept  in  mind  so  long,  but  which,  in  spite  of 
pressure  on  one  side  and  of  criticism  on  the  other, 
he  would  not  do  until  he  felt  the  time  was  ripe. 

Emancipation  had  been  urged  by  impatient 
statesmen  and  restless  generals.  But  Lincoln  was 
moved  neither  by  one  nor  the  other. 

"  My  paramount  duty,"  he  said,  "  is  to  save  the 
Union,  and  not  either  to  destroy  or  save  slavery. 
.  .  .  What  I  do  about  slavery  and  the  colored 
race  I  do  because  I  believe  it  helps  to  save  the 
Union ;  and  what  I  forbear,  I  forbear  because  I  do 
not  believe  it  would  help  to  save  the  Union. 
.  .  .  I  have  stated  my  purpose  according  to 
my  views  of  official  duty,  and  I  intend  no  modifica- 
tion of  my  oft-expressed  wish  that  all  men  every- 
where should  be  free." 

Patiently,  watchfully,  prayerfully  he  waited  for 
the  hour  which  he  knew  must  come  when  he  saw 
that  the  emancipation  of  the  slaves  was  necessary 
to  the  success  of  the  Union  arms.  Step  by  step 
he  had  worked  up  to  this  idea.  Gradually  he 
paved  the  way  for  the  final  decree.  First  he  pre- 
vailed upon  Congress  to  abolish  slavery  in  the 
District  of  Columbia ;  then  he  offered  freedom  to 


348  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

all  negroes  who  would  serve  as  Union  soldiers ; 
soon  after  he  approved  an  act  of  Congress  prohibit- 
ing slavery  in  all  the  Territories  of  the  United 
States. 

Then  came  the  final  act.  Lincoln  was  now  sure 
that  the  people  of  the  North  would  agree  with  him 
that  something  vital  must  be  done  to  convince  the 
rebellious  South,  the  wavering  border  States,  and 
the  people  of  the  world  that  the  Government  of  the 
United  States  pledged  itself  to  freedom. 

On  the  twenty-second  of  September,  1862,  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  issued  his  Emancipation  Proclamation 
by  virtue  of  which,  on  and  after  Jan.  1,  1863, 
"  All  persons  held  as  slaves  within  any  State  or 
part  of  a  State  in  rebellion  against,  the  United 
States  shall  be  thenceforward  and  forever  free ; " 
and  when  on  the  first  day  of  January,  1863,  the 
proclamation  was  made  fact  by  an  official  announce- 
ment Lincoln  closed  the  announcement  with  these 
solemn  words :  "  Upon  this  act,  sincerely  believed 
to  be  an  act  of  justice,  warranted  by  the  Constitu- 
tion upon  military  necessity,  I  invoke  the  consider- 
ate judgment  of  mankind  and  the  gracious  favor  of 
Almighty  God." 

The  judgment  of  mankind  to-day  is  that  the 
Emancipation  Proclamation  of  Abraham  Lincoln 
was  the  bravest,  noblest,  and  most  helpful  deed  of 
the  century.  North1  and  South  alike  so  regard  it, 
while  the  marvellous  progress  of  the  Republic  since 
Lincoln's  day  —  a  progress  made  because  the  nation 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN.  349 

indeed  is  free,  —  is  the  best  evidence  that  the  brave 
act  of  the  great  president  obtained  "  the  gracious 
favor  of  Almighty  God."  And  by  that  one  act 
Abraham  Lincoln  made  his  name  immortal. 

Even  as  I  write  these  lines  there  comes  the 
word  that  disproves  the  fears  of  Calhoun  and  justi- 
fies the  wisdom  of  Abraham  Lincoln. 

The  successful  and  efficient  secretary  of  the 
navy,  during  the  short  but  vigorous  war  with  Spain, 
—  a  war  for  humanity's  sake,  the  outgrowth  of 
Lincoln's  policy  of  sympathy  and  protection,  — 
made  this  comparative  picture  in  a  speech  of 
jubilee : 

"  As  I  stood,  a  few  days  ago,  on  the  portico  of 
the  Executive  Mansion,  I  recalled  that  in  my 
youth  I  there  met  President  Lincoln  as  he  came 
out  of  the  White  House  door.  We  were  alone. 
Had  I  then  lost,  as  I  have  since  lost,  the  awe 
which  a  young  man  feels  on  meeting  a  great  one, 
I  should  have  presumed  to  speak  to  him  ;  and,  per- 
haps, one  of  the  saddest  faces  on  which  I  ever 
looked  might  have  been  touched,  in  the  passing 
greeting,  with  that  kindly  smile  and  lighting  of 
the  eyes  which  sometimes  transformed  it  into 
almost  transcendent  beauty.  The  burden  of  the 
great  war  was  then  upon  his  gaunt  frame.  He 
had  emancipated  the  slave,  but  the  war  was  not 
over.  The  freedom  of  a  race,  the  issue  of  equal 
rights  for  all  men,  high  or  low,  black  or  white,  was 
still  trembling  in  the  balance. 


350  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

"  A  few  days  ago  I  stood  with  President  McKin- 
ley  on  the  same  portico.  We  were  not  alone. 
Every  foot  of  space,  the  railings,  the  grounds, 
were  filled  with  a  crowd  of  eager,  interested  people, 
men  and  women  and  children,  waiting  the  inarch 
of  the  Tenth  Regular  Cavalry,  colored  troops,  who 
soon  came  passing  in  review.  They  were  dis- 
mounted and  marching  in  column.  They  were  the 
heroes  of  the  recent  war.  They  had  saved  the 
brave  Roosevelt  and  his  Rough  Riders.  They  had 
stormed  and  swept  the  hill  of  San  Juan.  They 
had  linked  their  names  with  the  bravest  of  the 
brave.  Their  uniforms  showed  service,  but  it  was 
the  uniform  of  the  American  soldier.  They  passed 
in  review,  and  the  president  of  the  United  States 
bared  his  head  in  token  of  respect. 

"  There  and  then  I  saw  the  consummation  of 
Lincoln's  work.  Mayhap  that  great  soul  looked 
down  on  the  scene  from  the  portico  of  a  mansion 
eternal  in  the  heavens.  The  issue  which  trembled 
in  his  strong  hand  is  settled ;  the  slave  is  free ; 
there  are  equal  rights  for  all ;  the  servile  badge  of 
color  is  forever  obliterated ;  and  the  black  man  is 
the  American  soldier,  and  more  than  that,  the 
American  citizen.  There  is  no  avenue  of  business 
life  in  which  he  does  not  walk;  no  profession  of 
which  he  is  not  a  member ;  no  school  of  learning  or 
of  athletics  in  which  he  does  not  rank ;  and,  on  the 
platform,  one  of  his  race  is  to-day  the  best  orator  in 
America." 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN.  351 

But  before  the  war  was  over  the  day  came  for  a 
new  election  of  president  of  the  United  States. 
The  people  of  the  Republic,  however,  were  in  no 
mood  for  a  change.  In  the  terse  and  characteristic 
language  of  this  American  president  who  used  the 
homely  phrases  of  the  people  to  emphasize  his 
faith  —  "  it  is  not  safe  to  swap  horses  when  you  are 
crossing  a  stream."  The  stream  was  not  yet  quite 
crossed  and  there  was  no  swapping  of  horses.  In 
November,  1864,  Abraham  Lincoln  was  reflected 
president  of  the  United  States  by  two  hundred  and 
twelve  out  of  the  two  hundred  and  thirty-three 
electoral  votes  cast. 

And  on  March  fourth,  1865,  he  made  that  noble 
speech  —  his  second  inaugural,  from  which  I  made 
an  extract  in  the  Calhoun  chapter.  You  know  its 
close.  Its  closing  words  have  been  emblazoned  on 
decorations,  carved  on  monuments,  engraved  on 
the  hearts  of  the  people.  But  you  cannot  read 
them  too  often  : 

"  With  malice  towards  none  ;  with  charity  for  all ; 
with  firmness  in  the  right,  as  God  gives  us  to  see 
the  right,  let  us  strive  on  to  finish  the  work  we  are 
in  ;  to  bind  up  the  Nation's  wounds  ;  to  care  for 
him  who  shall  have  borne  the  battle,  and  for  his 
widow  and  his  orphan  —  to  do  all  which  may 
achieve  and  cherish  a  just  and  lasting  peace  among 
ourselves  and  all  nations." 

Sympathy,  defence,  protection  —  the  same  attri- 
butes of  character  that  led  him  to  shield  the  defence- 


352  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

less  and  unprotected  Indian  in  his  boyish  days  of 
soldiering  appear  in  this  noble  speech  delivered 
almost  in  the  shadow  of  death,  while  around  him 
was  being  secretly  woven  the  dastardly  and  bloody 
coil  of  assassination. 

One  month  later  the  blow  fell.  The  great  pres- 
ident's 'work  was  done.  The  war  was  over ;  the 
greatest  general  of  the  century  had,  in  magnani- 
mous terms,  accepted  the  surrender  of  the  Southern 
armies  ;  the  long  struggle  that  had  been  waged 
from  the  very  foundation  of  the  Republic  was 
triumphantly  closed  for  freedom  ;  the  nation  was 
redeemed.  And  even  as  the  good  president,  with 
a  heart  full  of  love  for  the  vanquished,  was  planning 
measures  for  their  good  and  was  striving  to  make 
all  Americans  brothers  once  more,  an  ambitious,  vin- 
dictive, and  hare-brained  adventurer,  the  arm  and 
centre  of  a  cowardly  plot,  shot  the  great  president 
as  he  sat  unconscious  of  danger,  and  at  half-past 
seven  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  Saturday,  the  fif- 
teenth of  April,  1865,  Abraham  Lincoln  had  ceased 
to  live. 

But  only  in  the  flesh  had  he  ceased  to  live.  In 
the  hearts  of  the  American  people  he  will  live  on 
forever.  When  he  died  the  whole  world  mourned, 
and  each  year  only  increases  his  greatness  and  the 
world's  recognition  of  his  nobility,  his  grandeur,  and 
his  statesmanship. 

More  power  was  given  into  his  hand  than  king 
or  emperor  holds ;  yet  he  was  never  for  one  instant 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN.  353 

moved  by  ambition  or  the  desire  for  personal  power. 
Abraham  Lincoln  lived  and  died  a  poor  man,  with 
no  desire  to  make  money  out  of  his  nation's  distress, 
and  with  no  time  to  devote  to  anything  but  his 
country's  need  and  service.  He  saved  a  nation 
and  emancipated  a  race. 

Absolutely  without  vices,  he  had  strongly  marked 
characteristics.  He  was  tender-hearted,  but  when 
occasion  required,  sternly  inflexible;  he  was 
sunny-tempered,  yet  his  face,  as  Secretary  Long 
says,  was  one  of  the  saddest  ever  seen ;  simple  in 
speech  and  life,  he  was  capable  of  eloquence  and  of 
stirring  words  that  will  live  forever.  Brave,  broad- 
minded,  just,  and  true,  his  humanity  embraced  all 
men,  his  faith  in  the  people  never  faltered ;  none 
knew  them  better  than  he ;  none  loved  them  more 
truly.  There  never  was,  in  any  age  of  the  world, 
a  leader  more  directly  selected  by  Providence  to 
guide  the  destinies  of  his  people  and  be  the  saviour 
of  the  Republic,  and  as  time  goes  on  the  fame  of 
Abraham  Lincoln  will  rise  above  that  of  his  fellows 
as  the  greatest,  noblest,  best,  and  wisest  man  of  the 
whole  wonderful  nineteenth  century. 


XXV. 

THE    STORY   OF    HENRY    WADSWORTH 
LONGFELLOW, 

CALLED  "AMERICA'S  FOREMOST  POET." 


Born  in  Portland,  Maine,  February  27,  1807. 

Died  at  Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  March  24, 1882. 


"  The  man  who  could  write  '  Sandalphon,'  '  The  Ladder  of  St. 
Augustine,' '  Snow-Flakes,' '  Daybreak,' '  The  Children's  Hour,' 
'  Suspira,' '  Seaweed,'  '  The  Day  is  Done,'  '  The  Wreck  of  the 
Hesperus,' '  The  Skeleton  in  Armor,'  '  Excelsior,'  'A  Psalm  of 
Life,' '  The  Old  Clock  on  the  Stairs,"  Paul  Ilevere's  Ride,' '  Noel ' 
and  '  Morituri,  Salutamus,'  —  the  man  who  could  write  such 
poems  as  these  is  immortal."  —  William  Sloane  Kennedy. 

ON  a  certain  broad  street  in  a  certain  fair  city 
in  the  famous  section  known  as  "  Down  East " 
there  stands  to-day,  as  it  has  stood  for  more  than 
a  hundred  and  twenty  years,  a  wide  brick  house 
of  ample  proportions  and  hospitable  aspect  —  a 
show  house  now,  prized  as  a  relic  by  the  pushing, 
prosperous  Maine  city  which  has  surrounded  and 
outgrown  it. 

In  the  right-hand  corner  room  on  the  third  floor 
of  this  historic  house,  on  a  certain  November  day 
in  the  year  1820,  a  boy  sat  at  a  table,  writing.  The 

354 


HENRY    WADSWORTH   LONGFELLOW.    355 

table  was  of  mahogany,  slender  and  round-topped, 
with  one  central  leg  and  three  sprawling,  claw- 
shaped  feet;  the  boy  was  in  his  early  'teens,  a 
handsome  fellow,  bright-faced,  blue-eyed,  and  wavy- 
haired,  just  shooting  up  into  a  thoughtful  but 
manly  youth.  He  came  of  good  stock  and  brave 
ancestry,  and  in  all  Portland,  in  all  Maine,  in  all 
America  indeed,  there  was  no  more  attractive-look- 
ing or  gentle-mannered  boy  of  thirteen  than  the 
one  who  sat  busy  over  his  writing  at  that  round- 
topped  mahogany  table  in  the  third-story  room  of 
the  brick  house  on  Main  street  —  Henry  Wads- 
worth  Longfellow,  the  son  of  "  Lawyer  "  Stephen 
Longfellow,  of  Portland,  Maine. 

He  had  something  on  his  mind  and  in  his  head 
as  he  sat  down  at  that  round-topped  table  in  his 
own  bed-room.  He  had  been  spending  a  good  part 
of  his  summer  at  his  Grandfather  Wads  worth's,  up 
in  Hiram  township,  forty  or  fifty  miles  northwest 
from  Portland.  Now,  Grandfather  Peleg  Wads- 
worth  was  an  old  Continental  soldier,  a  general  of 
the  Revolution,  and  the  traditions  of  conflict  hung 
about  the  Wads  worth  name  — an  honorable  one  in 
the  annals  of  Maine's  prowess  on  land  and  sea. 
The  country  about  Hiram  was  full  of  the  legends 
of  frontier  struggles  and  Indian  fights  in  the  days 
when  this  region  of  lake  and  pine  was  the  debata- 
ble borderland  between  white  man  and  red  man, 
between  the  colonist  of  New  England  and  the 
irrepressible  Frenchman  of  Canada. 


356  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

One  such  fight  as  this  had  been  waged  up  on  the 
shores  of  a  pretty  lake  known  thereabouts  as  Love- 
well's  or  Lovell's  pond,  only  a  few  miles  from 
Grandfather  Wadsworth's  farm  in  Hiram,  and  the 
boy  Henry  became  so  deeply  interested  in  the  story 
of  that  fierce  and  fatal  fight  of  the  stern  old  colony 
days  that  he  could  not  drop  the  tradition  from 
his  robust  fancies. 

It  rang  in  his  head  as  he  tramped  the  woods  and 
fields  about  Hiram ;  it  shaped  itself  into  rhythm  as 
he  thought  of  it  in  his  Portland  home ;  and  as  he 
sat  at  the  round-topped  table  in  his  dearly-loved 
"  own  room "  he  found  himself  impelled  to  turn 
his  study  of  the  "  battle  "  into  these  crude  and 
boyish  lines  —  built  plainly  on  the  model  of  Scott 
and  Moore  and  Byron,  heroes  of  literature  in  those 
days : 

"  THE    BATTLE    OF    LOVELI/S    POND. 

"  Cold,  cold  is  the  north-wind  and  rude  is  the  blast 
That  sweeps  like  a  hurricane  loudly  and  fast, 
As  it  moans  through  the  tall  waving  pines  lone  and  drear, 
Sighs  a  requiem  sad  o'er  the  warrior's  bier. 

u  The  war-whoop  is  still,  and  the  savage's  yell 
Has  sunk  into  silence  along  the  wild  dell ; 
The  din  of  the  battle,  the  tumult  is  o'er,  » 

And  the  war  clarion's  voice  is  now  heard  no  more. 

"  The  warriors  that  fought  for  their  country,  and  bled, 
Have  sunk  to  their  rest ;  the  damp  earth  is  their  bed ; 
No  stone  tells  the  place  where  their  ashes  repose, 
Nor  points  out  the  spot  from  the  graves  of  their  foes. 


HENRY    WADSWORTH   LONGFELLOW.   357 

"  They  died  in  their  glory,  surrounded  by  fame, 
And  victory's  loud  trump  their  death  did  proclaim ; 
They  are  dead ;  but  they  live  in  each  patriot's  breast 
And  their  names  are  engraved  on  Honor's  bright  crest." 

Crude  and  halting  indeed  they  may  seem  to  us, 
in  construction  as  in  rhythm,  but  that  boy  poet  of 
thirteen  was  stirred  by  his  sentiment  and  enthused 
by  his  verses  so  that,  reading  them  again  and 
again  with  the  pride  and  thrill  that  all  young  poets 
know,  he  decided  that  they  were  good  enough  to 
publish. 

So  he  signed  his  verses  "Henry,"  and  folding 
them  up  and  sealing  them  in  the  careful  style  of 
those  non-envelope  days  he  addressed  the  folded 
paper  "  To  the  Editor  of  the  '  Gazette,'  "  and,  slip- 
ping from  the  house,. ran  down  the  street  to  the 
printing-office  of  the  Portland  "Gazette."  Like 
Franklin  and  Dickens  and  countless  other  young 
aspirants  for  literary  recognition,  Henry  pushed 
his  precious  manuscript  into  the  letter-box  and 
then  ran  home  to  wonder  "if  they  really  would 
print  it." 

On  the  evening  before  the  semi-weekly  "  Gazette  " 
appeared  the  palpitating  poet  again  stole  down  to 
the  printing-office  where  printers  and  presses  could 
be  seen  at  work,  and,  wondering  if  they  were  print- 
ing his  "  poem,"  was  half  inclined  to  go  in  and  ask, 
yet  did  not  dare  to  brave  the  possibility  of  a  "  No." 

How  that  fair,  boyish  face  flushed  with  pleasure 
when,  next  morning,  after  "  Lawyer  "  Longfellow 


358  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

had  laid  aside  his  "Gazette,"  Henry  and  his  sister, 
who  alone  was  in  the  secret,  darted  upon  the  news- 
paper and  there  discovered  the  poem  "  in  all  the 
glory  of  print  "  !  And  how  proud  was  the  sister  of 
her  brother,  the  poet ! 

But  pride  goes  before  a  fall.  That  very  evening 
Henry  went  with  his  father  to  call  on  a  friend, 
Judge  Mellen,  of  Portland.  Henry  and  the  judge's 
son  were  talking  before  the  fire  when  suddenly  the 
young  poet's  heart  beat  fast. 

"  Have  you  read  that  poem  on  Lovell's  fight  in 
this  morning's  '  Gazette '  ?  "  he  heard  the  judge  in- 
quire. 

"No,"  replied  "Lawyer"  Longfellow  carelessly; 
"  I  did  n't  notice  it.  Good  for  anything  ?  " 

"No,  sir,"  was  the  judge's  verdict;  "it's  stiff, 
stiff;  remarkably  stiff.  And  not  original,  either. 
It's  all  borrowed,  every  line  of  it.  Why,  my  boy 
there  could  write  a  much  better  one  on  the  same 
subject;  much  better,  sir." 

The  friendly  firelight  did  not  betray  the  mortifi- 
cation and  anguish  of  the  boy,  whose  face  was 
shadowed  alike  by  its  flicker  and  his  own  disap- 
pointment. But  when,  soon  after,  he  found  him- 
self in  his  own  room  in  the  big  brick  house  on 
Main  street  he  flung  himself  on  the  bed  in  shame 
and  rebellion,  and  fairly  cried  himself  to  sleep  over 
the  poet's  first  criticism. 

But  a  boy's  will  is  strong,  even  if  this  selfsame 
poet  himself  declared  it  to  be  "  the  wind's  will," 


HENRY    WADS  WORTH   LONGFELLOW.   359 

and  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  simply  declared 
that  he  would  write  verse  and  become  known  as  a 
poet  —  as  he  did. 

Sixty-four  years  after  that  boyish  effusion  was 
slipped,  "  with  fear  and  trembling,"  into  the  letter- 
box of  the  Portland  "Gazette  "  there  gathered  on 
a  March  day  in  1884,  in  the  stateliest  and  most 
notable  of  all  the  great  churches  of  England,  the 
famous  Westminster  Abbey,  a  group  of  men  and 
women  assembled  to  do  honor  to  one  who  had  added 
grace,  beauty,  strength,  and  glory  to  the  English 
tongue.  Kinsfolk  on  both  sides  the  sea,  in  whose 
veins  ran  the  same  strain  of  Anglo-Saxon  blood, 
men  high  in  State  affairs  and  famous  in  the  world 
of  letters,  listened  in  the  noble  Jerusalem  chamber 
as  now  the  premier  of  England  and  now  the  Amer- 
ican minister  exchanged  words  of  appreciation  and 
acknowledgment  concerning  the  man  they  had 
there  gathered  to  honor.  Then  in  procession  the 
group  of  notables,  English  and  American,  arm-in- 
arm, proceeded  to  the  splendid  South  Transept  of  the 
great  Abbey,  where,  in  the  section  famous  through- 
out the  world  as  the  Poets'  Corner,  one  of  the  high 
officials  of  the  Abbey  unveiled  a  noble  marble  bust, 
proclaimed  by  many  critics  to  be  the  finest  memorial 
of  its  kind  in  the  whole  grand  Abbey. 

Upon  the  pedestal  of  this  marble  bust  was  cut  the 
simple  name  LONGFELLOW,  and  beneath,  upon  its 
supporting  bracket,  were  these  words  :  "  This  bust 
was  placed  among  the  memorials  of  the  poets  of 


360  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

England  by  the  English  admirers  of  an  American 
poet,  1883."  Who  this  American  poet  is  the 
name  carven  on  the  pedestal,  the  ealm,  serene, 
noble,  Homer-like  head,  alike  declare.  But  to  these 
are  added  on  the  memorial  these  brief  biographical 
details : 

Born  at  Portland,  U.S.A.,  Feb.  27,  1807. 
Died  at  Cambridge,  U.S.A.,  March  24,  1882. 

To  this  proud  height  of  fame  has  risen  the  boy 
poet  of  1820.  Enshrined  by  the  hereditary  foemen 
of  his  native  land,  within  the  choicest  sanctuary  of 
their  own  glorious  worthies,  the  presence  of  this 
bust  of  Longfellow,  almost  shoulder  to  shoulder 
with  the  memorials  to  Dryden  and  Chaucer  and 
Cowley,  and  surrounded  by  those  of  the  men  who 
made  England's  noblest  literature,  was  an  epoch- 
making  event.  For  that  honoring  of  an  American 
poet,  dear  to  all  who  speak  the  English  tongue, 
dear  also  to  those  of  other  lands  into  whose  speech 
his  verses  have  been  rendered,  marked  the  first 
welding  of  the  bond,  now  growing  stronger  every 
day,  that  shall  join  at  last  in  moral  as  well  as 
in  material  interests  the  two  great  nations  of  the 
English-speaking  race. 

"  Lie  calm,  0  white  and  laureate  head! 
Lie  calm,  0  Dead,  that  art  not  dead ; 

Since,  from  thy  voiceless  grave, 
Thy  voice  shall  speak  to  old  and  young 
While  song  yet  speaks  an  English  tongue, 

By  Charles'  or  Thamis'  wave." 


HENRY    WADSWQRTH   LONGFELLOW.   361 

So  wrote  an  English  poet  in  reverence  of  the 
great  American;  and  that  American  minister 
whose  presence  added  impressiveness  and  affection 
to  that  historic  scene  in  the  Poets'  Corner,  the  life- 
long friend  and  lover  of  Longfellow,  —  James  Rus- 
sell Lowell,  —  wrote  : 

"  Surely  if  skill  in  song  the  shears  may  stay 

And  of  its  purpose  cheat  the  charmed  abyss, 
If  our  poor  life  be  lengthened  by  a  lay, 
He  shall  not  go,  although  his  presence  may, 
And  the  next  age  in  praise  shall  double  this." 

Already  it  has  doubled  it,  though  the  country 
which  gave  birth  to  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow 
is  but  just  merging  into  the  dawn  of  a  new  age. 
For  no  one  yet  has  displaced  from  the  proud  posi- 
tion of  America's  foremost  and  favorite  poet  the 
man  who  through  sixty  years  of  song  led  his  na- 
tive land  to  nobler  thinking  and  to  higher  life. 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  was  born  in  Port- 
land in  the  year  1807,  not  in  the  ample  brick  house 
in  which  we  saw  him  at  the  round-topped  table 
writing  his  first  poem,  but  in  a  big  frame  house 
down  by  the  waterside,  now  so  transformed  from 
its  original  "  fashionable  "  beginnings  to  a  decid- 
edly "  unfashionable  "  atmosphere  that  one  small 
Portland  boy,  on  being  asked,  some  years  ago,  if  he 
knew  where  the  poet  Longfellow  was  born,  an- 
swered promptly,  "Yes,  'm;  in  Patsy  Conner's 
bedroom." 


362  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

But  Longfellow's  boyhood  and  youth  were  passed 
in  the  quaint  and  now  famous  house  on  Main 
street,  —  or  Congress  street  as  it  is  called  to-day,  — 
built  by  his  grandfather,  the  stout  Continental  vet- 
eran, Gen.  Peleg  Wadsworth,  and  it  is  with  this 
house  in  Main  street,  as  with  the  delightful  old  city 
of  Portland,  that  the  story  of  his  youth  is  associated, 
and  of  which  he  wrote  : 

"  Often  I  think  of  the  beautiful  town 

That  is  seated  by  the  sea ; 
Often,  in  thought,  go  up  and  down 
The  pleasant  streets  of  that  dear  old  town 

And  my  youth  comes  back  to  me." 

Here,  under  the  guidance  of  a  gifted  father  and 
a  refined  and  cultivated  mother,  the  gentle  nature 
of  the  boy  was  shaped  and  directed.  Here  he  felt 
his  first  literary  aspirations,  established  his  first 
literary  friendship,  wrote  his  first  "  epigrams  and 
tragedies,"  and  at  length  went  from  thence,  before 
he  was  fifteen,  to  Bowdoin  College,  Maine's  most 
celebrated  institution  for  higher  education. 

In  1825,  being  then  eighteen,  he  graduated  with 
honor  from  Bowdoin.  But  his  literary  ability  and 
cultivated  mind  had  already  made  their  impression 
upon  the  authorities  and  faculty  of  the  college,  and 
when,  in  the  very  year  of  his  graduation,  it  was  de- 
termined to  establish  at  Bowdoin  a  professorship  of 
modern  languages,  Longfellow  was  at  once  sug- 
gested and  advocated  for  the  new  chair.  The  re- 


HENRY    WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW.   363 

suit  was  that  he  was  sent  abroad  to  fit  himself 
for  the  duties  of  his  new  position,  and  after  three 
years'  travel  in  Europe  he  returned  to  enter  upon 
his  professorship,  in  September,  1829,  —  a  young 
man  of  but  two  and  twenty. 

So  excellent  a  record  did  he  make  in  this  post 
that  in  1835  he  was  offered  and  accepted  the  pro- 
fessorship of  modern  languages  and  belles  lettres 
at  Harvard  College,  and  in  December,  1836,  after 
anotheryear  in  Europe,  he  removed  to  Cambridge, 
where  he  resided  in  the  famous  mansion  known  as 
Craigie  house,  on  Brattle  street,  dear  to  Americans 
for  its  double  significance  as  the  headquarters  of 
Washington  and  the  home  of  Longfellow. 

He  remained  in  his  professorship  at  Harvard  for 
eight  years  —  from  1836  to  1844  —  and  then 
resigned  it  into  the  hands  of  his  friend,  neighbor, 
and  successor,  James  Russell  Lowell,  in  order 
that  he  might  be  free  for  his  much-loved  literary 
work. 

The  record  of  this  literary  work  stretches  over 
half  a  century  —  from  "  Coplas  de  Manrique,"  in 
1833,  to  the  "  Bells  of  San  Bias,"  his  last  poem,  in 
1882.  The  simple  recital  of  his  publications  is  to 
chronicle  the  highest  achievement  of  poetical  pro- 
duction by  the  man,  who,  in  his  life-time,  was  easily 
.the  foremost  literary  figure  in  America.  It  is  well 
that  we  should  read  this  record. 

In  1833,  the  year  in  which  appeared  his  first 
book, — a  thin  volume  of  translations  from  the  Span- 


364  HISTORIC   AMERICANS. 

ish,  under  the  title  "  Coplas  cle  Manrique,"  -  he 
issued  also  the  first  part  of  his  prose  work,  "  Outre 
Mer,"  which  he  completed  in  1835.  In  1839  came 
a  second  prose  story,  "  Hyperion,"  and  "  Voices  of 
the  Night,"  the  latter  collection  containing  two  of 
his  now  most  famous  poems,  "  The  Psalm  of  Life  " 
and  "  Footsteps  of  Angels."  In  1841  he  issued  a 
small  volume  called  simply  "  Ballads,  and  Other 
Poems,"  but  they  comprised,  among  others,  "  Ex- 
celsior," "  The  Skeleton  in  Armor,"  "  The  Village 
Blacksmith "  and  "  The  Wreck  of  the  Hesperus." 
In  1842  appeared  his  "  Poem  on  Slavery ;  "  in  1843 
"  The  Spanish  Student;  "  in  1845  "The  Belfry  of 
Bruges  ;  "  in  1847  "  Evangeline  "  —  esteemed  by 
many  critics  the  greatest  of  all  his  poems.  In 
1849  came  his  only  prose  novel,  "  Kavanagh,"  and 
a  collection  of  poems,  "  Seaside  and  Fireside," 
in  which  were  included  those  beautiful  verses 
which  have  comforted  all  the  world  —  "  Resigna- 
tion." In  1851  appeared  "The  Golden  Legend;" 
in  1855  "  The  Song  of  Hiawatha,"  the  only  great 
poem  with  the  American  Indian  as  a  theme  ;  in 
1858  "The  Courtship  of  Miles  Standish "  and 
"  Birds  of  Passage  ;  "  in  1863  the  "  Tales  of  a 
Wayside  Inn"  and  the  "Second  Flight"  of  his 
"  Birds  of  Passsage ; "  in  1866  came  a  small 
volume  entitled  "  Flower  de  Luce ; "  in  1867  he, 
published  his  great  labor  of  love  ("  a  masterpiece 
of  literal  translation,"  it  has  been  called),  his 
translation  of  Dante's  "  Divine  Comedy."  In  1868 


HENRY    WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW.   365 

was  issued  "  The  New  England  Tragedies ;  "  in 
1871  "  The  Divine  Tragedy,"  forming,  with  "  The 
Golden  Legend"  and  "The  New  England  Trag- 
edies," a  threefold  presentation  of  the  develop- 
ment of  Christianity.  In  1872  he  published 
"  Three  Books  of  Song ;  "  in  1873  «  Aftermath ;  " 
in  1874  "  The  Hanging  of  the  Crane  ;  "  and  in  1875 
"  The  Masque  of  Pandora,"  and  other  poems,  one 
of  the  latter  being  his  inspiring  poem  on  old  age, 
"Morituri  Salutamus."  In  1878  appeared  "  Kera- 
mos,"  and  other  poems,  and  in  the  same  year  he 
completed  his  series  of  selections  from  all  the 
poets,  entitled  "Poems  of  Places."  In  1880  he 
issued  "Ultima  Thule,"  and  in  March,  1882,  he 
wrote  his  last  poem,  "  The  Bells  of  San  Bias,"  — 
almost  a  prophecy  of  the  death  that  soon  afterward 
came  to  him  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  March,  1883. 

A  full  half-century  his  pen  was  busy.  His  was 
a  life  of  helpful,  hopeful,  uplifting,  and  inspiring 
work.  For  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  had 
few  dark  days ;  he  was  the  poet  of  optimism  — 
genial,  sunny,  kindly,  earnest ;  he  was  the  prophet 
of  beauty,  order,  and  righteousness,  loving  and 
beloved  by  the  whole  English-speaking  world. 

Charles  Kingsley  declared  that  the  face  of  Long- 
fellow was  the  most  beautiful  face  he  had  ever 
.seen.  That  face  was  but  the  index  of  the  mind 
and  the  soul  of  the  best-loved  of  our  American 
poets.  His  very  presence  was  a  benediction  ;  his 
simplest  word  was  an  encouragement.  The  desire 


366  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

that  guided  his  pen  was  to  make  "  a  purer  faith 
and  manhood  shine  in  the  untutored  heart ;  "  and 
his  whole  life  was  a  personification  of  all  the  qual- 
ities that  make  for  righteousness. 

Children  loved  and  honored  him.  One  of  his 
most  delightful  experiences  was  the  unique  way 
in  which  the  children  of  the  schools  of  Cambridge 
—  seven  hundred  in  all  —  celebrated  his  seventy- 
seventh  birthday.  From  the  wood  of  the  tree  be- 
neath which  had  stood  on  Brattle  street  that  very 
village  smithy  which  the  poet  had  made  so  famous, 
there  was  constructed  a  great  chair.  This  was 
placed  in  his  study  on  the  morning  of  the  twenty- 
seventh  of  February,  1879,  as  a  birthday  surprise. 

And  it  was,  indeed,  a  surprise.  On  a  brass 
plate  in  the  seat  of  the  chair  was  this  inscription  : 
"  To  the  Author  of  '  The  Village  Blacksmith '  this 
chair,  made  from  the  wood  of  the  spreading  chest- 
nut tree,  is  presented  as  an  expression  of  grateful 
regard  and  veneration  by  the  children  of  Cam- 
bridge, who,  with  their  friends,  join  in  the  best 
wishes  and  congratulations  on  this  anniversary  - 
February  27,  1879."  Longfellow  appreciated,  en- 
joyed, and  acknowledged  the  gift,  and  his  verses  of 
acknowledgment,  beginning, 

"  Am  I  a  king  that  I  should  call  my  own 
This  splendid  ebon  throne  ?  " 

gladdened  the  hearts  not  only  of  the  children  of 
Cambridge,  who  were  responsible  for  it,  but  of  all 


HENRY    WADSWORTH   LONGFELLOW.    367 

the  children  the  wide  world  over,  who  knew  that 
good  gray  poet  by  the  songs  which  had  become  a 
part  of  their  life  and  literary  development. 

Critics  may  undervalue  his  genius,  discount  his 
aspirations,  and  belittle  his  gift  of  song ;  but  the 
fact  remains  that  he  was  and  ever  will  be  the  most 
popular  of  American  poets.  Such  verses  as  "  Ex- 
celsior," "  The  Skeleton  in  Armor,"  "  Resigna- 
tion," "The  Old  Clock  on  the  Stair,"  "The 
Psalm  of  Life,"  "Paul  Revere's  Ride,"  "The 
Wreck  of  the  Hesperus,"  and  others,  are  wider 
known  than  any  corresponding  number  of  lyrics 
by  any  other  writer  of  English  song;  while  of 
"  The  Building  of  the  Ship  "  it  is  asserted  that 
"it  had  as  much  effect  in  developing  a  sense  of 
nationality  as  anything  ever  written  —  not  ex- 
cepting the  Declaration  of  Independence,  or 
Webster's  reply  to  Hayne." 

LONGFELLOW  :  that  is  all  that  the  army  of  pil- 
grims read  on  the  simple,  almost  uncarven  stone 
that  marks  his  grave  on  Indian  Ridge  path  in 
beautiful  Mount  Auburn.  It  is  but  a  type  of  the 
simplicity  of  his  life  and  the  natural  beauty  of  his 
mind.  The  bust  in  Westminster  and  the  green, 
park-like  memorial  at  Cambridge  speak  alike  of  the 
range  of  his  genius  and  the  loving  respect  of  the 
world. 

Old  and  young,  rich  and  poor,  found  in  him  in- 
spiration, counsel,  sympathy,  and  help,  and  his 
words  touched  more  closely  the  great  throbbing 


368  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

heart  of  humanity  than  did  those  of  even  greater 
poets.  It  has  been  said  of  him  that  his  was  "  a 
thoroughly  healthy,  well-balanced,  harmonious 
nature,  accepting  life  as  it  came,  with  all  its  joys 
and  sorrows,  and  living  it  beautifully  and  hopefully, 
without  canker  and  without  uncharity."  It  is  such 
a  life  that,  communicating  itself  to  the  world 
through  the  medium  of  verse  whose  inspiration  is 
sympathy  and  whose  root  is  love,  uplifts,  refines, 
and  brightens  the  world.  And  this  was  the  mission, 
this  the  achievement,  of  Henry  Wadsworth  Long- 
fellow. 


XXVI. 

THE  STORY  OF  ULYSSES  S.  GRANT, 
OF  GALENA, 

CALLED   "THE   HERO   OF   APPOMATTOX."  ' 


Born  at  Point  Pleasant,  Ohio,  April  27, 1822. 

Died  at  Mount  McGregor,  New  York,  July  23,  1885. 


u  The  world  knew  his  faults,  his  mistakes,  and  his  weaknesses ; 
but  they  were  all  forgotten  in  the  memory  of  his  great  deeds  as 
a  warrior,  and  of  his  gentleness,  modesty,  candor,  and  purity  as 
a  man.  Since  then  it  becomes  increasingly  more  evident  that 
he  is  to  take  his  place  as  one  of  the  three  or  four  figures  of  the 
first  class  in  our  national  history.  He  was  a  man  of  action,  and 
his  deeds  were  of  the  kind  which  made  epochs  in  history."  — 
Hamlin  Garland. 

IN  the  battle  month  of  August,  1847,  the  Amer- 
ican invaders  were  storming  at  the  gates  of  Mexico. 
The  embattled  walls  of  Cherubusco  and  the  forti- 
fied camp  of  Contreras  had  yielded  to  the  resistless 
onrush  of  the  northern  host;  over  the  stone 
citadel  of  Molino  del  Rey  and  upon  the  castle- 
crowded  hill  of  Chapultepec  floated  the  triumphant 
Stars  and  Stripes,  until,  at  last,  only  the  stout  walls 
of  the  capital  city,  pierced  with  its  defended  gates, 
held  back  the  conquering  soldiers  of  Scott  from  the 
storied  "  halls  of  the  Montezumas." 

369 


370  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

But  those  defended  gates  were  stubbornly  held 
by  the  valorous  but  poorly-led  and  outgeneralled 
Mexicans,  and  while  it  was  evident  that  the  Amer- 
ican cannon  would  in  time  blow  out  a  path  for 
entrance,  it  was  desirable  to  clear  this  path  at 
once,  alike  to  inspire  the  besiegers  and  dishearten 
the  besieged. 

It  was  at  this  stage  of  the  assault,  while  the 
brigades  of  Worth  and  Quitman  were  held  back 
by  the  aqueduct  embankment  and  the  city  gates, 
that  a  young  lieutenant  of  the  Fourth  United 
States  Infantry,  scouting  a  bit  on  his  own  hook, 
saw  off  in  the  fields  a  little  stone  church  which  he 
begun  to  study  critically. 

It  was  not  so  much  the  church  as  the  belfry  on 
the  church  that  attracted  him. 

"  That 's  the  key  to  the  situation,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "  That  church  is  just  in  line  with  the 
gate.  Back  of  that  gate  are  the  fellows  we  've  got 
to  drive  off.  If  I  could  only  get  a  gun  into  that 
belfry  I  believe  I  could  drop  some  shot  into  the 
Mexicans  at  the  gate  and  scatter  them  double 
quick." 

The  plan  seemed  so  promising  that  the  lieuten- 
ant resolved  to  try  it  at  once.  He  hurried  back  to 
the  lines ;  called  for  a  few  volunteers ;  borrowed 
one  of  those  light  cannon  called  a  mountain  how- 
itzer, and,  dodging  the  Mexicans,  cut  across  the 
fields  to  the  church. 

The  fields  were  seamed  with  numerous  irrigating 


ULYSSES    S.    GRANT.  371 

ditches  filled  with  water.  But  these  did  not  dis- 
turb the  plucky  lieutenant.  He  and  his  men  took 
the  howitzer  and  its  mount  apart  and,  each  one 
carrying  a  piece,  they  waded  the  ditches  and  at 
last  reached  the  church.  The  gate  into  the  city 
was  less  than  a  thousand  feet  away. 

At  the  church  door  a  priest  confronted  them. 

"  This  is  a  church.  You  must  not  enter  here," 
he  said  in  warning. 

"  I  fear  we  must,  sir,"  said  the  young  lieutenant 
courteously. 

"  You  shall  not !  I  will  not  let  you,"  the  brave 
priest  declared  sternly. 

But  the  lieutenant  was  equally  firm. 

"  Oh,  I  reckon  you  will,"  he  said.  "  You  see, 
we're  coming  in." 

And  brushing  the  protesting  priest  aside,  he  and 
his  men  forced  their  way  into  the  church. 

Piece  by  piece  the  howitzer  was  carried  up  into 
the  belfry,  put  together,  speedily  loaded,  and  trained 
directly  upon  the  Mexican  defenders  of  the  San 
Cosme  gate,  as  it  was  called. 

Those  defenders,  intent  on  keeping  back  the 
besieging  Americans,  did  not  notice  the  little  group 
in  the  church  belfry,  until,  suddenly,  with  a  spite- 
ful bang  !  bang !  the  howitzer  in  the  air  sent  down 
its  unwelcome  shot  into  the  very  ranks  of  the 
defenders  of  the  gate. 

They  could  not  dislodge  this  new  and  surprising 
battery  in  a  steeple,  and  when,  finally,  its  well- 


372  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

directed  shot  got  the  range  and  became  unbearable 
they  retreated  from  behind  the  gate. 

General  Worth  heard  the  shots  ;  he  saw  the  puffs 
of  smoke ;  he  appreciated  the  strategy  of  the 
"embattled  belfry." 

"  That 's  a  bright  idea,"  he  said.  "  Ride  over 
there,  Lieutenant  Pemberton,  and  see  who  's 
responsible  for  that.  Tell  him  to  report  to  me  at 
once." 

So  Lieutenant  Pemberton  jumped  the  ditches 
and  summoned  the  fighting  lieutenant  from  his 
church  steeple. 

"Ah,  Lieutenant  Grant,  it's  you,  is  it?"  said 
General  Worth,  as  the  young  officer  saluted. 
"  Good  idea  of  yours,  that.  Keep  it  up.  I  '11 
order  another  gun  for  you,  and  you  can  run  that 
up  there  and  blaze  away  with  both  of  'em.  It  's 
the  best  move  I  've  seen.  If  you  can  keep  the 
gate  clear  we  can  knock  it  down.  I  '11  have  that 
other  gun  for  you  directly." 

Lieutenant  Grant  saluted  and  went  back  to  his 
battery  in  the  belfry.  He  did  not  tell  the  general 
that  there  was  only  room  for  one  gun  in  the  steeple, 
because,  as  he  explained  years  after,  it  was  not 
proper  for  a  young  lieutenant  to  tell  his  command- 
ing officer  that  he  could  n't  do  it,  even  when  or- 
dered to  crowd  two  guns  into  a  belfry  that  was  only 
big  enough  for  one. 

But  his  one  gun  did  the  business.  It  scattered 
the  enemy,  cleared  the  path  for  a  final  assault,  and 


ULYSSES    S.    GRANT.  373 

induced  the  Mexicans  to  beg  off  from  such  an  as- 
sault by  running  up  the  white  flag  of  surrender,  and 
opening  the  gates  of  Mexico  to  General  Scott  and 
his  conquering  northern  army. 

And  it  brought  a  promotion  to  the  grade  of  cap- 
tain for  this  young  lieutenant,  Ulysses  Simpson 
Grant,  Fourth  United  States  Infantry.  For  he  was 
mentioned  for  bravery,  in  special  despatches,  and 
though  he  was  as  modest  as  Hobson  the  people  who 
admire  pluck  picked  him  out  as  a  hero. 

Pluck  was  a  distinguishing  feature  of  U.  S. 
Grant.  As  boy  and  man  he  displayed  this  quality 
again  and  again,  from  his  wrestle  with  the  balky  colt 
as  an  Ohio  farm-boy  to  his  struggle  with  pain  as  the 
world's  foremost  soldier. 

His  story  is  a  simple  one,  as  are  the  stories  of 
most  great  men.  He  was  born  in  a  country  village 
of  Ohio,  known  as  Point  Pleasant,  on  the  banks  of 
the  Ohio  river,  on  the  twenty-seventh  of  April,  1822. 
His  father  was  a  successful  tanner  of  that  region, 
who  when  Ulysses  was  about  a  year  old  moved  to 
the  village  of  Georgetown,  about  twenty  miles  away, 
for  the  purpose  of  increasing  his  tannery  plant. 

Ulysses  Grant  —  Hiram  Ulysses  was  his  real 
name  —  was  a  strong,  healthy,  go-ahead  little  fellow 
who  did  not  greatly  enjoy  going  to  school,  and  did 
not  at  all  like  the  tannery  business.  But  if  he  had 
anything  to  do,  either  in  work  or  play  and  whether 
he  liked  it  or  not,  he  went  ahead  and  did  it,  because 
it  was  the  thing  to  do. 


374  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

One  day  a  great  opportunity  came  to  this  Ohio 
boy,  although  he  really  did  not  desire  it ;  he  ob- 
tained an  appointment  to  enter  the  United  States 
Military  Academy  at  West  Point  and  study  to  be 
a  soldier. 

He  went  even  against  his  will,  because  he  saw 
it  was  best  for  him  to  do  so,  and-  after  four  years 
of  thorough  training  he  graduated,  not  very  high 
up  in  his  class,  but  still  with  the  record  of  having 
been  a  fair  scholar  and  a  splendid  horseman,  and, 
on  the  thirteenth  of  June,  1843,  he  was  commis- 
sioned a  brevet  second  lieutenant  in  the  United 
States  army. 

It  was  when  he  entered  West  Point  that,  by  a 
mistake  in  entry  and  by  his  own  silence,  as  well  as 
the  complicated  system  that  makes  it  hard  to  rec- 
tify a  mistake,  he  was  entered  on  the  books  of  the 
military  academy  as  Ulysses  Simpson  Grant  —  and 
that  is  the  name  by  which  he  went  into  history. 

He  fought  through  the  Mexican  war  with  con- 
spicuous bravery,  even  though  he  was  not  obliged 
to  fight,  because  he  was  quartermaster  of  his  regi- 
ment. But  Lieutenant  Grant  was  not  the  man  to 
shirk  responsibility  or  to  dodge  duty. 

After  the  war  he  went  with  his  regiment  to  Ore- 
gon, by  way  of  the  Isthmus  of  Panama.  On  the 
isthmus  the  regiment  was  starved  by  inefficiency 
and  stricken  with  the  cholera ;  but  Grant,  as  quarter- 
master of  his  regiment,  fought  the  plague,  inspired 
with  confidence  the  panic-stricken  men  and  women 


ULYSSES    S.    GRANT.  375 

under  his  charge,  forced  the  inefficient  contractors 
to  furnish  food  and  transportation,  and,  at  last,  got 
his  command  across  the  deadly  isthmus  and  aboard 
the  transports,  and  not  only  learned  by  his  expe- 
rience, but  taught  by  his  example  those  lessons  of 
foresight,  determination,  and  watchfulness  that 
strengthened  a  character  that  was  to  mean  great 
things  for  his  native  land. 

A  doleful  experience  in  barracks  on  the  Ore- 
gon coast  led  finally  to  his  resignation  from  the 
army.  For  eleven  years  he  had  been  a  soldier  of 
the  Republic,  which,  for  a  man  who  detested  Avar 
and  abhorred  fighting,  was  a  good  record  of  devotion 
to  duty.  But  he  had  married  a  wife  ;  he  felt  that 
he  owed  a  duty  to  himself,  as  well  as  the  Republic, 
and  so,  with  his  brevet  of  captain  made  a  full 
commission,  he  retired  from  the  army  in  March, 
1834,  and  became  a  farmer  near  St.  Louis. 

He  was  not  a  success  as  a  farmer ;  his  health  was 
poor,  and  it  takes  some  time  for  a  soldier  of  eleven 
years'  experience  to  settle  down  to  other  work. 
Somehow  things  did  not  go  his  way,  and  he  tried  first 
one  thing  and  then  another.  He  tried  lumbering, 
real  estate,  and  bill  collecting  with  no  better  success 
than  farming,  and,  finally,  removed  to  Galena,  in 
Illinois,  where  he  "  clerked "  for  his  father  and 
brother  in  their  tannery  and  leather  store.  There 
he  lived  unnoticed  and  unknown,  until  in  1861  the 
Civil  war  broke  out.  Then,  as  he  had  been  edu- 
cated by  the  Government,  he  felt  that  he  owed  a 


376  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

duty  to  the  Government,  but,  because  he  was  a  West 
Point  graduate,  he  felt  also  that  it  was  due  alike  to 
the  Trovernment  and  to  himself  that  he  be  placed 
in  a  position  where  his  knowledge  could  be  put  to 
the  best  service. 

He  tried  to  get  an  army  appointment,  but  could 
not ;  then  he  accepted  the  captaincy  of  a  volunteer 
company,  simply  to  drill  them  into  shape  ;  and,  at 
last,  just  as  he  began  to  despair  of  serving  his 
State  in  the  field,  he  was  appointed  colonel  of  the 
Twenty-first  Illinois. 

Then  he  began  to  show  what  he  could  do.  His 
training  and  ability  were  soon  recognized  :  he  was 
made  brigadier-general,  and  soon  after  commander 
of  the  military  district  of  Cairo,  in  Southern  Il- 
linois. In  that  position  the  test  of  ability  speedily 
came,  and  U.  S.  Grant  stood  it  as  few  others  had 
done.  While  they  argued  he  acted.  He  surprised 
and  captured  the  Confederate  camp  at  Belmont ; 
he  captured  Fort  Henry  and  immediately  afterwards 
For  Donelson,  deemed  impregnable  fortifications  ; 
he  turned  the  battle  of  Shiloh  from  a  defeat  to  a 
victory ;  and,  at  last,  after  cooping  up  the  Southern 
army  in  their  fortified  city  of  Vicksburg,  he  be- 
sieged it  so  cleverly  and  determinedly  that,  at  last, 
on  the  Fourth  of  July,  1863,  Vicksburg  surrendered 
to  Grant,  and  the  Mississippi  river  was  free  from 
the  lakes  of  Minnesota  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 
The  tanner's  son  had  become  a  great  and  success- 
ful general. 


ULYSSES    S.    GRANT.  377 

This  important  victory  made  Grant  a  major- 
general  in  the  United  States  Army.  He  was  given 
command  of  a  great  section  called  the  Military 
Division  of  the  Mississippi,  and  at  once  began  an 
active  campaign  against  the  Confederates  of  South- 
ern Tennessee.  He  won  the  battle  of  Chattanooga, 
said  by  military  critics  to  have  been  "  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  battles  in  history  ;  "  he  relieved 
the  great  mountain  plateau  between  the  Alleghan- 
ies  and  the  Mississippi  of  hostile  troops,  and  rose 
to  the  command  of  all  the  armies  of  the  United 
States,  as  Lieutenant-General  Grant. 

Thereupon  he  took  charge  of  the  war  in  the  east, 
and,  as  leader  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  he 
fought  the  brave  Confederates  and  their  able 
leader,  General  Lee,  for  a  whole  year,  in  a  series  of 
some  of  the  bloodiest  battles  of  history. 

General  Grant,  as  I  have  told  you,  deplored  and 
detested  war.  But  once  engaged  in  it,  he  fought 
to  win. 

"  Give  the  enemy  no  rest ;  strike  him,  and  keep 
striking  him.  The  war  must  be  ended,  and  we 
must  end  it  now." 

That  was  his  theory  of  war,  and  he  fought 
straight  on,  never  halting  in  his  opinion,  never 
wavering  in  his  actions,  saying  to  those  who  ques- 
tioned him  :  "  I  shall  fight  it  out  on  this  line  if  it 
takes  all  summer." 

Thereupon  the  people  and  the  president  .knew 
that  they  had  a  soldier  to  rely  on,  a  man  with  a 


378  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

genius  for  successful  war,  a  general  who  never  took 
one  backward  step.  In  just  thirteen  months  after 
Grant  assumed  his  command  as  head  of  the  Amer- 
ican army  the  end  came,  and,  in  the  apple-orchard 
at  Appomattox,  the  last  stand  was  made,  the  last 
gun  was  fired,  the  white  flarg  fluttered  for  a  truce, 
and  in  the  little  McLean  farmhouse  the  two  great 
opposing  generals  met  in  conference,  and  the 
Southern  army  laid  down  its  arms  in  surrender. 

Then  General  Grant  won  a  greater  victory 
through  kindness.  For  where  he  might  have  been 
harsh  he  was  magnanimous.  He  was  not  one  to 
exult  over  a  valiant  but  fallen  foeman. 

"  They  are  Americans,  and  our  brothers,"  he 
said.  He,  gave  them  back  their  horses,  so  that 
they  could  plough  their  farms  for  planting ;  he 
gave  them  food  and  clothes,  and  sent  them  all  home 
to  their  families.  "  The  war  is  over,"  he  said  to 
North  and  South  alike.  "Let  us  have  peace." 

Of  course,  his  great  success  made  him  a  hero.  He 
was  one.  But  he  bore  his  honors  modestly.  He 
hated  to  be  made  a  show  of,  he  declared  ;  for  he 
was  a  quiet,  unpretentious,  and  silent  man. 

This,  of  course,  made  him  all  the  more  popular, 
for  the  world  ranks  that  man  highly  who  shows 
himself  modest  in  success  and  magnanimous  in  vic- 
tory. His  own  land,  indeed,  thought  so  much  of 
him  that  the  Republic  called  him  to  its  highest 
place,  and  Ulysses  S.  Grant  was  twice  elected  pres- 
ident of  the  United  States. 


ULYSSES    S.    GRANT.  379 

He  served  as  chief  magistrate  of  the  Republic  in 
a  hard  and  stormy  time  —  the  period  of  recon- 
struction. Aiming  to  deal  justly  with  all  men,  he 
made  many  enemies  ;  he  may  have  made  mistakes, 
but  he  kept  to  his  course  as  steadily  and  per- 
sistently as  when  he  was  a  leader  in  the  field. 
To-day  people  begin  to  realize  how  wise  and  able 
a  president  he  was,  and  as  that  time  of  dispute 
drops  farther  into  the  past,  the  new  America,  the 
real  union  of  States,  will  be  found  to  have  come  to 
grandeur  and  glory  largely  because  of  the  deter- 
mined, unyielding,  and  noble  stand  of  Ulysses  S. 
Grant,  who  taught  the  people  at  once  the  value  of 
obedience  to  law,  and  the  greatness  of  a  patriotism 
that  knew  only  the  Republic. 

His  two  terms  as  president  came  to  an  end,  and 
then  Grant  determined  to  see  the  world. 

He  saw  it  under  great  advantages,  for  whether 
he  liked  it  or  not  he  was  a  great  man,  and  the 
whole  world  was  glad  to  do  him  honor.  Kings 
and  princes,  queens  and  rulers,  invited  him  to  their 
palaces ;  the  great  ones  of  the  earth  vied  in  atten- 
tions and  respect.  He  visited  the  Queen  of  Eng- 
land at  Windsor  and  the  Emperor  of  Germany  at. 
Berlin ;  he  met  the  President  of  France  at  Paris  ; 
and  was  the  guest  alike  of  the  boy  King  of  Spain 
and  the  King  of  Portugal.  The  Pope  at  Rome  and 
the  King  of  Italy  saw  and  talked  with  him.  The 
King  of  Denmark  and  the  King  of  Sweden,  the 
Emperor  of  Austria  and  the  Czar  of  all  the  Rus- 


380  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

sias,  the  Viceroy  of  China  and  the  Mikado  of  Japan, 
—  all  met  and  honored  the  tanner's  son  who  had 
been  conqueror  and  president,  while  everywhere  the 
people  thronged  the  ways  to  see  him  and  shouted 
their  welcomes  to  one  who,  from  the  people,  had 
sprung  into  greatness  and  renown. 

Then  he  came  home  again,  the  same  simple, 
modest,  clear-headed,  practical  American  citizen 
and  gentleman,  the  hero  of  a  nation,  who  had 
shown  all  the  world  how  a  man  can  be  a  great 
soldier  and  a  great  American  and  yet  be  a  true- 
hearted,  unpretending,  quiet,  and  high-minded 
man. 

But  they  were  to  see  him  fight  one  other  battle. 
It  was  the  hardest  that  any  man  can  fight  —  the 
battle  against  wrong,  dishonor,  and  death. 

When  General  Grant  came  home  again  after  his 
journey  around  the  world  he  did  not  like  to  be 
idle,  so  he  put  what  money  he  had  into  business  and 
began,  so  he  thought,  to  grow  rich.  He  made  his 
home  in  New  York  City,  in  a  fine  house  presented 
to  him  by  the  people  who  so  honored  and  admired 
him,  and  filled  with  the  mementoes  and  trophies 
that  told  of  his  success  and  renown. 

He  had  reached  the  pinnacle  of  fame.  Hon- 
ored by  his  countrymen,  respected  by  the  world, 
there  was  but  one  thing  he  desired  —  to  leave  his 
children  a  heritage  equal  to  his  fame.  For  their 
sake  he  went  into  business,  hoping  much ;  but  he 
failed.  An  unprincipled  investor  caught  the  old 


ULYSSES    S.    GRANT.  381 

soldier   in   his  toils,  traded   upon  the   name,  the 
reputation,  and  the  honor  of  the  man  who  trusted 
him,  and,  when  the  crash  came,  —  as  come  it  did,  — 
the  name,  the  reputation,  and  the   honor  of   the 
great  general  were  dragged  in  the  dust. 

He  was  stripped  of  everything ;  he  was  almost 
penniless ;  all  his  money  was  gone  and,  worse  still, 
others  who  had  trusted  in  him  had  lost  their  money 
too.  This  thought  quite  broke  the  hero  down. 
The  general  who  had  never  known  defeat  was 
well-nigh  defeated  at  last. 

It  made  him  sick.  It  weakened  a  constitution 
already  undermined  by  the  shock  of  a  fall  on  the 
ice,  and  developed  a  trouble  in  his  throat  that 
brought  him  months  of  suffering,  of  torture,  and  of 
agony. 

But  just  as  he  had  marched  to  battle  courage- 
ously, so,  now,  he  faced  disaster  as  bravely.  He 
set  to  work  to  make  his  losses  good,  and  because 
all  the  world  wished  to  hear  about  his  great  deeds 
of  war  he  set  himself  to  the  task  of  writing  the 
story  of  his  life  and  his  campaigns. 

He  kept  himself  alive  to  do  this.  For  over  a 
year  he  fought  ruin  and  a  terrible  pain  as  stoutly 
as  he  had  ever  battled  with  the  enemies  of  the 
Republic,  while  the  pity  of  the  world  went  out  to 
him,  and  kings  and  beggars  sent  him  words  of 
sympathy. 

Day  after  day  he  labored,  while  disease  battled 
for  the  mastery.  In  June,  1885,  he  was  removed  to 


382  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

a  mountain-top  near  Saratoga,  but  still  he  labored 
on,  now  brought  very  near  to  death,  now  snatching 
from  pain  and  weakness  another  day  of  respite. 

So  he  held  death  at  bay  until  July.  At  last  his 
book  was  completed.  He  had  won  his  last  fight. 
Then,  his  work  finished,  his  desire  for  life  was 
gone.  Pain  and  weakness  held  him  a  little  longer 
a  sufferer,  and  then,  on  the  twenty-third  of  July, 
1885,  in  the  cottage  on  Mount  McGregor,  the  end 
came  quietly;  the  news  spread  over  the  land  and 
to  the  uttermost  ends  of  the  earth.  General  Grant 
was  dead. 

The  world  mourned.  Men  and  women  every- 
where had  learned  to  honor  the  great  general,  as 
much  for  his  victories  over  disaster,  disgrace,  and 
pain  as  for  his  conquests  in  war  and  his  leadership 
in  peace.  Amid  the  tolling  of  bells  and  the  boom- 
ing of  cannon  the  Republic  laid  her  greatest  soldier 
•to  rest,  and  as  she  had  honored  him  in  life  honored 
him  also  in  death. 

On  the  heights  of  Riverside,  overlooking  the 
lordly  Hudson  and  the  great  and  prosperous  city 
of  New  York,  there  rises  above  the  ashes  of  this 
simple  but  grand  American  a  splendid  monument, 
which  is  a  landmark  for  miles  around.  It  seems 
almost  too  great  a  display  for  one  who  was  himself 
the  most  unassuming  of  men.  But  it  testifies  the 
nation's  regard  for  him  who  was  twice  its  chief 
magistrate  —  the  Republic's  pride  in  the  great 
soldier  whose  deeds  meant  the  Republic's  salvation. 


ULYSSES    S.    GRANT.  383 

And,  as  time  goes  on,  longer  than  that  great  gray 
mausoleum  shall  stand  above  his  silent  dust,  while 
the  words  honor,  duty,  courage,  simplicity,  will, 
and  loyalty  mean  anything  to  the  world,  so  long 
will  the  nation  remember  and  the  Republic  revere 
the  name  and  fame  of  Ulysses  S.  Grant. 

No  man  is  perfect ;  all  of  us  make  mistakes  ;  all 
of  us  have  our  shortcomings  and  imperfections. 
But,  much  as  his  time  criticised  him,  posterity  will 
see  that  he  was  both  misjudged  and  misunderstood. 
Grant  was  a  great  man  doing  great  things.  But  he 
was  also  a  simple,  silent,  honest,  straightforward 
soldier,  trying  to  do  his  duty  as  he  saw  it,  in  his 
own  simple  and  manly  fashion. 

Sagacious,  resolute,  energetic,  aggressive,  auda- 
cious, courageous,  indomitable,  indifferent  to  danger 
or  fatigue,  relentless  in  battle,  magnanimous  in 
victory,  loyal  to  principle,  faithful  to  friends, 
honest,  upright,  patriotic,  national,  and  American, 
—  such  was  Ulysses  S.  Grant;  and  these  were  the 
attributes  that  brought  him  to  success  and  have 
made  his  name  forever  famous  and  forever  his- 
toric.   

From  Winthrop  to  Grant,  from  the  genius  of 
colonization  to  the  genius  of  victory,  these  sketches 
of  Historic  Americans  have  carried  us  steadily  for- 
ward. They  have  shown  us  how,  by  persistence 
of  will,  loyalty  to  conviction,  love  for  the  people, 
for  progress,  for  honor,  valor,  justice,  intelligence, 


384  HISTORIC    AMERICANS. 

truth,  and  right,  great  minds  have  builded,  gov- 
erned, guarded,  served,  and  saved  the  Republic,  and 
handed  it  down,  for  the  Future  to  emulate  and 
to  improve  upon  the  Past.  This  the  Future  will 
do;  for  great  examples  never  are  in  vain.  True 
Americanism  lives  in  these  stirring  lines  of  Wood- 
berry,  mindful  of  the  Past,  hopeful  of  the  Future : 

"  It  cannot  be  that  men  who  are  the  seed 

Of  Washington  should  miss  fame's  true  applause ; 

Franklin  did  plan  us  ;  Marshall  gave  us  laws  ; 
And  slow  the  broad  scroll  grew  a  people's  creed  — 
One  land  and  free !  Then,  at  our  dangerous  need, 

Time's  challenge  coming,  Lincoln  gave  it  pause, 

Upheld  the  double  pillars  of  the  cause, 
And,  dying,  left  them  whole  —  our  crowning  deed. 

u  Such  was  the  fathering  race  that  made  all  fast, 
Who  founded  us,  and  spread  from  sea  to  sea, 
A  thousand  leagues,  the  zone  of  liberty, 

And  built  for  man  this  refuge  from  his  past  — 

Unkinged,  unchurched,  unsoldiered ;  shamed  were  we, 

Failing  the  stature  that  such  sires  forecast." 


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